


Payback

by Jeb



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Bara Sans, F/F, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Reader has not started hormones, Reader identifies as male, Reader is a trans man, Reader-Insert, reader is trans male
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-12
Updated: 2016-08-11
Packaged: 2018-05-13 07:56:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 68
Words: 99,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5700913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jeb/pseuds/Jeb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Revenge is a dish best served metallic</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Then

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! 
> 
> For those who came from "I want a puppy", this story is not a continuation! 
> 
> I hope you enjoy the story!

It would have been fitting if the dirt beneath your short fingernails was oozing mud. It would have been fitting if the dust caked in the seams of your clothing dripped off the fabric into puddles. Anything would have suited this moment better than the cherry pink rays that mingled with fantastic gold, last vestiges of the beautiful day that had taken place, showering into a brilliant sunset. Anything dark or dreary or gross would have been better than what was. 

It would have matched Sans' expression if it was as disgusting outside as you felt inside. Your teeth chattered lightly, and despite knowing that you should have maintained a calm face as you looked up at the storm that was Sans, you couldn't help it. Your brows were furrowed and your lips were tightly twisted in a vicious scowl, your fists were grabbing at the ground and tearing up clumps, and you were poised to spring at the skeleton. 

Your belongings lay littered against the dead grass. At least that was fitting, you thought angrily. And maybe you were, too. You were an angry lightning bolt, threatening to pierce back up to the heavens and charge at the storm that had thrust your anger into you. The front of your shoes dug into the ground slightly, grass parting at your force as your toes fought to find a better hold. 

He said nothing. For once, that lazy stupid grin you had stupidly fallen for because you were stupid--! You breathed heavily, calm, you told yourself, stay calm. For once, that stupid smile was wiped clean off of his visage, finally. Your heart twanged as you thought that it had taken much too long, you knew it wasn't true. You loved his smile, you loved him. 

You couldn't convince yourself otherwise even if you tried. And oh, were you trying. 

Scarlet paint smeared on the sky from invisible brush bristles, and your calves began to burn from the position you still held. You lifted your hands from the defensive hold they had taken by your sides, undoing the fists your fists quickly, not stopping to cringe as warmed earth fell from your fingers. Your teeth flashed briefly as a snarl a dog would be proud of curled onto your lips, and you sucked chilly air through the small gap in between the top and bottom sets of teeth. A shiver worked its way to your spine as the cold froze your teeth, but you bit it back. 

He stared at you from his place in the doorway, right hand just itching to slam the door it held. You could see his fingers twitching from the desire to shut you out one final time. You wondered how Papyrus, who was away at Napstablook's, would react to see the two of you this way. You, in your near beastly pose, and Sans who stood with his left eye whipping through green, yellow, and blue rapidly. Had he ever seen such a sight, the one that was currently your, now, ex boyfriend? You sure hadn't. 

Sans leaned forward suddenly, daring you to so much as move, and you did. You rose to a standing position, towering over the various bags and boxes easily. An army of stuff that you could use at your disposal, should you feel like getting violent. You did, but you held both your tongue and your fury. Your key chain sat heavily in your left pocket, and you dug them out when you remembered they were there. 

Sans did not watch curiously, instead his arm, the left, reaching towards you. He presented his hand, palm skywards, and you continued to shuffle through the variety of keys until you slid your home key out of the loop. You didn't even look at him as you tossed it, hearing it clang against his bones as he caught it, and then against the wall after he threw it. You shoved your keys back in your pocket, fingers lingering for a second too long before you threw your hand back down to your side. 

You lowered yourself and began to pile box onto box, a makeshift wall to block him from your sights that doubled as a means of carrying your items. You tested the weight, it was light enough that you could carry it to your car with ease, and so you began to do just that. The height of the boxes stopped so that the top one could rest against your forehead, and you maneuvered the familiar grasses like the expert you were. This was your home, you'd be damned if you didn't know it well. 

A slur of curses sullied your mouth, waiting eagerly to pour out. You had denied them for so long, but you figured it wouldn't hurt now. You cursed the skies that would not mirror neither your anger nor your sorrow, you cursed fate for having teased you with a happy eternity only to cut it short, you cursed everything from ocean to ocean, and finally, you cursed Sans. "Fucking skeleton," You exhaled, face growing haggard as you refused to let his name slip from your lips again. Never again. "Stupid fucking skeleton. Dumb shit." You'd like to think you were better than this, but if the weather would not cooperate, your growls would have to make do with creating the thunderous atmosphere he had created. 

Balancing the stack on one of your arms, you plucked out your keys again and shuffled through them, jamming the correct one into the slot without missing a beat. You swung the door open, narrowly missing the metal as it scraped by, and your fingers thunked harshly against the button that unlocked all of the doors but the trunk. You sidestepped to the right until you were directly in front of the door to the back seats. You swung that open, too, pressure screeching against the door as it shook from your power. You felt the glower of that damned skeleton on your back. 

You began to pile the boxes into the car, cursing again when you saw that not all of your belongings would fit. Like hell you were coming back here again. You shoved them in haphazardly, fitting boxes in where boxes would fit before turning on your heels and marching back to the front yard. You had at least two more trips worth of stuff to grab, it would have been one if _someone_ would help, he wanted to see you out as fast as he could anyway, but that damned lazy skeleton--! False malice that masked a deep hurt shadowed over your gaze, not that you trained it on Sans. 

You were shaking now, but not with cold, exhaustion, or anger. Though it didn't show in anything but the slight tremors, the cutting sadness was searing through you like a wicked flame that you so heartily wished to douse. You picked up the latest stack, this one heavier than the first by a great deal, but not enough to cause you to falter in your movements as you guided back to your car. You threw the boxes in once more. It took a few tries, but you finally pushed the car door shut, and it stayed that way when you moved away from it. You pressed the still open driver's side door, fingers fumbling for the button that would unlock the trunk. You still had a few boxes from this last trip that would not fit in the back seats, no matter how hard you tried. 

You walked quickly back over, picking the objects left by the side of your car up swiftly and traveled to the back of your car, eyes scanning over it as it went. It was a dusty old van you had snagged from the side of the road for a few hundred dollars, a good deal for a decent car, a few years back. You sneered at the color, an enthralling cobalt that mirrored the magic currently flowing from Sans' eye. You'd wanted to get it repainted, anyway. 

You shoved the remaining boxes in the trunk and went back for the last of your belongings. As you padded across the grass, you couldn't help but ask yourself why Sans was still waiting on the front porch, his figure present in your peripherals. It would be easier for the both of you if he would just shut that door, you didn't care if it was closed to you forever. Your heart twinged, alright, maybe you did care. 

You forced anger into your heart like air into your lungs, gulping it down in slow steady breaths. It simmered in your stomach, boiling enough to threaten the contents of your dinner, but would go no further than that. The tendrils of what you wanted to be hatred snaked up and around towards your heart, but stopped well before they could reach their destination. You cursed your inability to dislike Sans, too. 

You slid the few bags over your shoulders and gathered up the last few boxes, a monumentally lighter load than your last, even lighter than the first, and stood. You made no hesitation to meet eyes with your former lover, willing there to be some flicker of doubt, some hesitation that you pretended to lack. Not even the slightest flicker crossed into his burning eye. With that, you turned away from him, exiting the yard for what would likely be the last time for a long time. 

You crossed the distance to your car with ease, your shaking having stopped when you looked into his heated gaze that final time. A chilling breeze brushed against your cheek, stinging your skin harshly. That was fitting, you thought almost merrily. The wind only continued to pick up, swirling around you and tickling your fuzz-covered scalp. You dropped the boxes in and slid the bags beside them, huffing slightly as you reached up, grabbed onto cold metal, and slammed your arms down. You ran cold fingers through what little hair you had, promising yourself a hair cut as soon as you could get one, and began to walk towards the only open door. 

Your cracked lips began to leak crimson fluids as your teeth tore at the skin carelessly. The inside of your cheeks had been snagged raw, suffering a similar treatment that your bottom lip was currently facing, and you inhaled deeply. The door shut firmly after you had seated yourself, your seat belt going ignored for now. You would get to it later, the very next stoplight or stop sign, you promised, but for right now, you were getting out of here. 

The hood of your car was towards the street, so you didn't need to adjust the rear view mirror or look behind you. You started the ignition, turning the heat on once the car was started, and began to drive. You peeled out of the driveway quick enough to rattle your bones, but not so much so that you appeared desperate in your want to leave. You blinked away a sudden wetness as you swerved onto the streets, the distance between your former home and you increasing with every second. You noticed that Sans still had not backed away from the door, its openness likely inviting the harrowing winds that had previously tugged at your clothes. 

The sun dipped further beneath the horizon, wisps of dark blue graying the edges furthest away from its fleeting light. You didn't know where to go now. You hadn't woken up and expected to have all of your stuff packed and placed on your lawn, solely their lawn now, you hadn't been expecting anything like what had happened! Your shoulders slumped as you rounded the corner, the bone brothers' home disappearing from view with a sense of finality. When you came home from work earlier, that was what was waiting for you. Brown boxes and soured moods. 

The angry flame that had coursed through your veins, bubbled your stomach, and stopped before reaching your heart died out as you continued driving. You wondered if it would ever return again, likely when you saw Sans next, which at the moment, you hoped would be never. The road jostled your car slightly with every odd bump, and after a few minutes, you arrived to a stoplight. You turned your body quickly, buckling yourself in before dwelling on your current situation. 

You wouldn't be able to turn to Papyrus, who had quickly become one of your best friends, aside from maybe Toriel. Sans had surpassed the 'Best Friend' status that so little people had just been able to make it to. He had become the wall you would lean against when you needed it, the clock that would offer as much time as you needed, the source of childish joy and wild laughter, the cause of playfully disappointed groans whenever he would utter those awful jokes, the most comfortable person you had ever been with, the being that presented more light than the sun, of which had drooped beyond the horizon and left an inky blue tone in the sky, for the two and a half years you two had been together. The..

You stopped yourself, wounds already clawing deeper within you. The soft trembles had returned, but they were no longer quiet. You shook violently, now, pitiful sniffles you could not push back any longer pairing alongside those awful shakes. You glared into the road, willing holes to burn through the asphalt. That didn't happen, but the light did turn green, giving you something else to focus on. 

You juggled your thoughts, staying focused on the road the whole while, before settling. If you could turn to neither Papyrus, for he was busy and would likely side with his brother anyway regardless of what you could say or do, nor Toriel, who had likely heard of Sans' temper and would favor with the friend she had made long before you ever stepped into her life, you would turn to the next person. You idly wondered if Toriel knew what you did not, the source of Sans' immense rage. You pushed the thought back. 

You pulled over near an empty street vendor cart, digging in your right pocket for your phone. Like most of your belongings, it was old and outdated, but again similar to your items, it worked, and it worked well. You dialed the familiar number without a thought, pressing the phone to your ear as the fingers of your left hand tapped on the steering wheel lightly. A few seconds later, and a dull click sounded through your speakers. Your voice, rough with disuse and grief, surprised you with the confidence warped within the sound, "Hey, Mettaton,"


	2. Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Three Years Later**

Dull pastel fanned out along the sky, dusting the clouds in flakes of pink, baby blue, and gold. From as far as the eye could see, the sky was enveloped with more beauty than an artist could capture, and it was only dawn. The warmer than usual temperatures and vibrant sky promised stunning sights for hours to come, and the day would likely be laden with life as people emerged from their homes to enjoy it whenever they woke up. 

You did not see any of it. You were currently engaged in a very heated competition, your fish-like friend your only rival, for now. The two of you pushed hard, up and then down, up and then down, over and over again until your muscles strained and your weight sagged, but you only increased your effort, slowing down only slightly. A song was filling the room as the two of you stared each other down from your positions, and if anyone asked, neither of you would be able to repeat the lyrics as they passed through one ear and out the other. 

A bead of sweat dribbled down the side of your skull as you dropped, catching yourself just before your chest hit the ground and pushing up again. Undyne was repeating similar movements as she went, her pace slower than yours, but she was no doubt a few push ups ahead of you. The skeleton Undyne had enlisted to help record who won each even was adding tallies quickly to either side of a paper, trying to keep up with both of you as you both pressed well into triple digits. Papyrus was lagging a bit at first, but now that the two of you were dragging at what you would consider a snails pace, he was having no trouble. 

You stopped and looked to Papyrus, Undyne finishing another push up and doing the same. "Time check," You said. "And score?" The both of you waited as Papyrus moved over to the phone currently screaming music, your heart pounding too loudly for you to hear it. Luckily, Pap was loud enough. "THIRTY THREE SECONDS LEFT, THE HUMAN IS WINNING THIS EVENT WITH TWO-HUNDRED-AND-SIXTY-EIGHT, UNDYNE CLOSE BEHIND AT TWO-HUNDRED-AND-FIFTY-TWO!" Undyne let out a nasty growl and lowered her body quickly, you following suit without hesitation. Huh, you were winning. That makes three for three so far, and you only had seven more exercises to go. 

The half minute whipped by you quickly, and the two of you were rolling on your backs before Papyrus could begin to read the score. He reset the time, five minutes again, and counted up the numbers while the two of you rose and dip like pros. "THE HUMAN PULLED AHEAD AT TWO-HUNDRED-AND-SEVENTY-NINE, UNDYNE LOST AT TWO-HUNDRED-AND-SEVENTY-SIX." Undyne did not let out a peep as she worked on keeping her fingers entwined behind her head, and Papyrus busied himself counting your sit ups as they blurred by. 

Your abs didn't hurt even as you passed over ninety before two minutes were up. Your bindings held fast, even as sweat dabbed at your chest and lined your skin, causing you to lose your grip several times. The two of you worked hard, huffing as you went. You had no doubt that your sweat would leave stains, again, and Mettaton would scowl at that, but right now, you had only one thing in mind: Finally beating Undyne. 

You had come close last Saturday, but close wasn't enough. She had pulled ahead at the last event of your made-up competition, racing by you and completing the three mile run faster than you by four seconds. At the thought, you began to rise and fall back even faster, your back slamming into the carpet before flashing back up. Papyrus could barely keep count as you knocked them out, teeth clenching tightly as you pressed hard. "TWO MINUTES LEFT," Papyrus announced helpfully. "UNDYNE IS AHEAD AT TWO-HUNDRED-AND-FIFTY, THE HUMAN DOWN BY TWO AT TWO-HUNDRED-AND-FORTY-EIGHT---FORTY-NINE, FIFTY," Papyrus cut himself off as he worked dutifully on tallying the scores. 

Undyne was ahead. You couldn't allow her that space. You worked even harder, core straining as you pushed and pressed, tightening your abdomen until your abs began to feel slightly crushed. A wicked smile passed over your lips as you slammed down, sit ups were your forte. You weren't getting beaten here. You hadn't trained alongside Undyne for two and a half years just to be defeated at what you were best at. You lost count over and over again, even after Papyrus rattled off the scores, and by the time he had told the two of you to stop, your back was red with carpet burn. 

You slid back onto your stomach, pressing up and digging your elbows into the plush carpet, sinking slightly. Your knee rested against the ground as the rest of your body poised, ready for the signal. Undyne rested in front of you, eyes gleaming with a competitive hardness. You narrowed yours, a smirk playing at your lips. Papyrus called the go ahead, and you shot up faster than a rocket. 

"THE HUMAN ENDED FIRST IN THE SIT UP EVENT, STOPPING AT THREE-HUNDRED-AND-THIRTEEN. UNDYNE RESTED AT THREE-HUNDRED-AND-TWELVE, HER LAST TWO DID NOT COUNT BECAUSE HER FINGERS WERE NOT ENTWINED BEHIND HER HEAD," Undyne hissed at that, and you felt a thrilling shudder run through you. You had been so close to losing! You focused on your body, reading over it for signs of fatigue. 

Your thighs were straining slightly, the muscle tender from the intense workout you had endured for hours yesterday. Aside from that, you were as golden as you were when you began the competition earlier that morning. 

A smile dawned over the smirk, genuine and friendly. Ab stuff was where you specialized, and the ten minute plank wasn't going to phase you now, as it hadn't in a long time. Fifth event, next up was the turning point. If you won that, regardless of what tricks Undyne slipped from her scales, you were the winner of this competition. The thought filled you with glee, and you began to crawl over to your workout partner and friend, resting just far enough away that when you extended your fingers and she did the same, the digits touched. 

"You're close to winning for once, kid," Undyne huffed, respect radiating from her being as it had so many times before. You knew she enjoyed having you as a rival, the two of you practically forcing one another to become better and better as you tried to top one another. It had started out as a coping strategy for some _unfortunate_ events that occurred a little over three years ago, but had quickly merged into what you would consider the friendship of a lifetime. One you weren't keen on giving up then, and one you wouldn't give up now. "TWO MINUTES LEFT!" 

You could see Undyne trembling slightly, she always sided more with upper body than anything else, and it always hurt her for this particular event. Still, she was doing better than she had a year ago, when five minutes was a challenge. She hadn't been familiar with human workouts, not wanting to get rid of the familiar monster ones that had worked so well in the past, so she had been slow in progress. Which was fine, you hadn't been in tip-top shape when you started training with her. 

You tilted your head to the side, relishing in a loud series of cracks that popped from your neck, and then moved to the other side. Your fists clenched tighter as you fought to maintain form for the last thirty seconds. The winner of this depended on who held position until the end, and if both of you did, then whomever dipped or leaned the most during the entire ten minutes would be declared the loser. 

Your eyesight blurred slightly as you felt the lingering touch of a hundred invisible kisses staining your lips, the tender flesh where those dastardly signs of affection had been pressed burning at the sudden memory. You ran your tongue over your lips, unsure to whom these phantom kisses belonged to, and why they decided to appear now. "TEN, NINE, EIGHT.." You decided Mettaton was the owner, your mind flooding with relief. No, it could be no one else. 

"ONE, DOWN!" The two of you allowed a brief second of rest before rolling on the floor again, not waiting for Papyrus to announce the winner. Your feet sat a few inches below your hands as you stretched, preparing your body for the next segment, which included a five minute handstand with no less than ten push ups in that position, but you and Undyne were more likely to go over that than stop at it. It didn't earn more points, you both just liked to show off to one another. 

"GO!" Papyrus' voice rang out in the air, but before the echo had stopped, you and Undyne were both up. You steadied yourself, sweat raining from your forehead and dripping into your eyes as you angled your head, painfully for your neck, and faced Undyne. She was already steady, you expected no less, but her eyes were trained to the floor. "THE HUMAN HAD THE LEAST DIPS IN FORM FOR THE PLANK!" Papyrus yelped, and once again, relief shot through you. That makes you five for five. Your intense training has tipped the odds in your favor, but this would do it. 

You began to lower yourself, body straining as you fought to keep yourself from falling over. One. Again, and then you were at two. The exercise was hard, and you could stop at ten, but you could see Undyne pressing ahead. Who were you to not give her a bit of competition? You pressed on. 

By the time the five minutes were up, you had fallen once, but completed thirty-eight of the odd-angled push ups. "UNDYNE HAS WON THE HANDSTAND EVENT!" The aforementioned monster beamed, but her grin was not smug nor was it cocky. She knew you only needed one more event to steal a win, and you would. You were sure of it. Papyrus grabbed the phone and shut it off. 

Pastels ebbed away from the sky, washing a bright blue coat over the stellar canvas, before the three of you had even made it outside. Your sneakers pressed against the warming pavement as you trudged forward, glaring at nothing in front of you. This next event, while you could do, was not your best. You couldn't blame your constant loss on the awkward and unnatural body position, however. It was just as off to you as it was to Undyne. 

The three of you rounded a corner, jogging, though to a normal person it would be more of a sprint, a few minutes until a tall stop sign could be seen a few dozen meters away. The three of you raced for it, skidding to a half just before you ran by the red octagon. You smiled over to Papyrus, who always joined you for the outdoor events. He claimed that the indoor ones were kept in a room much too stuffy and small for him, despite it being a room larger than the whole second floor of his home. Still, you had not argued when it came up the first competition, and you did not argue now. 

Papyrus had to shove the papers into his mouth, stuffing the pen he kept with him into the pants of his sweatpants. You were sure it would fit the paper too, if it were folded a few times to make it easier, but you shrugged it off. You were the last to lower yourself in the awkward position, your rear almost slanted above your torso and elbows bent at awkward angles which you had found gave you better speed. Undyne began to explain the rules, even though the three of you knew them well. "Okay, punks! We're onto the seventh event, the bear crawl!" Her hoarse voice sounded almost poetic against the brisk air, "It's a one mile dash to the Loser's house, no standing, otherwise you're disqualified!" You and Papyrus nodded. "Okay!" 

"ONE!" Papyrus called out. 

"Two!" Undyne shouted. 

A grin twisted at your lips, "Three!" 

The three of you shouted, "GO!" in unison, not pausing a moment before clomping forward in a mess of limbs and what you liked to pretend was an awesome display of athleticism. You three pushed off with your heels each time they slapped against the ground, dull clacks and whams reverberating through the otherwise quiet air. You pushed yourself faster and faster, whispering silent encouragements as you pulled ahead. 

I can do it, you told yourself. I am the strongest there ever was, I am the strongest there will ever be, and no one can defeat me. Your breath came out in shocking puffs for although the Winter sun had warded away all the beauty you had been too busy to see, it did not chase away the cold temperatures. If anything, that motivated you to go faster, to ignore your muscles as they screamed loud protests against your every movement. 

To call it slow would have been a lie. The houses whirred passed you in blurs, and the sidewalk raced below you like a treadmill. Wind roared over your body, but did not break through the heavy workout attire that adorned your body. Your arms twisted and your legs shot out from underneath you as you jumped and meandered forward, closing in on your goal. You didn't need to turn to see that both Undyne and Papyrus were lagging several paces away, you couldn't hear them and so you knew that they were not close to you. You raced on. 

The minutes dripped into the tens as you rushed forward, your body still screeching and begging for you to stop. But you could not do that. You continued forward, bounding towards your shared home with Mettaton in startling lengths until you finally arrived at your driveway. You moved beyond the dark asphalt, still padding along the sidewalk, until you were passed your mailbox, and it was only then that you stood. 

You were surprised, to say the least. Your back ached and your body strained tiredly, and you doubted you would perform as well on the next few events as you usually did, but you won. You won, you won, you won! Your eyes widened as you repeated this in your mind. It was six-to-one, now. Undyne could not beat you. You won! 

You threw your arms up and brought them close to you, hopping about in a feminine fashion before throwing a left hook into the air, your fist sailing with ease. You jumped up and down, calves protesting but you could care less. You had, for the first time since the little competitions had begun on a Saturday two and a half years prior, won. Yes! Excitement bubbled in you in waves, and you flashed over to the grass and flopped down on it, laughing intensely. 

You could do it. You are the strongest there ever was, the strongest there ever will be, and no one could defeat you. A brazen smile passed over your lips and you rolled in the grass, staining your skin with the plant life as you went. Who won? You did! It seemed boastful to repeat the phrase so often, but little electric tingles were warping across your skin and restarting your already beating heart, you couldn't help it. 

Heavy breathing sounded from your driveway, and thinking it was Papyrus, Undyne, or both, you sat up. Your breath did not catch in your throat, nor did you pause in thought, as you gazed at the last monster you ever wanted to see. You were friends with Papyrus, so it wasn't like you didn't see him often enough, but he had never shown up on any of your Saturdays with Undyne or Pap. "Oh, hey, Sans," You drawled lazily, but not impolitely. He waved at you. His almost always present grin strained at the edges. Whatever. 

"*where's Papyrus?" You leaned over to see behind him, and he followed your gaze. "Huh, should be over there?" It had only been maybe a minute since you raced passed that mailbox finish line, but you knew you weren't going fast enough for them to be so far behind you. He turned to you expectantly. "*racing?" You nodded, your smile finding its home back on your lips. "*cool. you win?" Again, you nodded. 

Your smile grew brighter, "Mettaton is going to be so proud!" It seemed childish to say, but it's not like you sought his approval. He had been your beacon of light for three years, now, and had supported you heartily even before becoming your boyfriend, which had ironically happened on the year anniversary to your breakup with Sans. You didn't see Sans flinch at your words, distancing himself further as he took a small step back. "*heh. yeah." 

You could see Undyne sprinting in that weird position, and she was coming in hot. You rose to your feet, dusting off your clothes as you moved closer to cheer her on. You brushed by Sans, at such a distance that not even two arm lengths would have brought you close to touching. Just how you liked it. You stood at the crack where the driveway asphalt met the sidewalk pavement, chipper whoops and enthusiastic cries screeching from your throat, only growing louder when Papyrus galloped into view. You turned to smile at Sans, joy overshadowing the ill mood his presence usually brought, "Found him!" 

The rest of the competition passed in the same manner. You had won the quarter-mile lunge walk and the five minute squat endurance test, reigning in at two-hundred-and-two for that ninth event. By the time the final event, the three mile, had come up, you were too tired. You were more than five minutes slower than Undyne, shaking your head playfully at her when she accused you of throwing it. "Next time, Undyne, next time," You had assured her. 

By the time the four of you had parted, Undyne hitching a ride with the skeleton brothers, it was close to ten in the morning, your scheduled meet-up time with Mettaton. You saw them off, waving to your two friends and one vague acquaintance energetically, more so for the former two than latter one. "I'm going to pound your scores into dust next Saturday, punk! Don't go easy on me, I won't go easy on you!" Undyne sent over her shoulder, bold laughter pressing from her throat. You waved even more enthusiastically, though no one was looking anymore. 

You disappeared into your large home, missing the beauty that came with a cloudless sky and golden rays as you went.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no self control


	3. *now

Sans watched as you plopped down on the couch across from the one he rested on, snuggling up closer to Mettaton after settling. He could tell that the bucket of bolts was forcing his metallic body to thrum with magical heat to ward away the cold for you. Muted anger grated against his bones even as he pressed against Toriel, his eyes never leaving your form even after you had found a comfortable position. 

Already, you and Mettaton had been together almost as long as Sans had been with you, and even though the wounds were old, they stung lightly. He and Toriel had been together for almost a year now, much to the chagrin of Asgore. You didn't seem to mind, though, not that it was Sans' end goal to make you mind. If anything, from an outsider's view, it only strengthened your relationship with Mettaton, much to Sans' immediate distress. He hadn't wanted Papyrus dating that metal mop, and he certainly hadn't wanted you dating him, either. He turned to the movie. 

It was Saturday, the usual Movie Night you and Undyne had set up for after your weird physical fitness competitions. Everyone was invited, Toriel, Papyrus, Napstablook, Alphys, the usual gang. He was invited as well, but didn't make a habit of coming often, but today was a weird day. He didn't typically see you, avoiding you almost like the plague itself, and he never saw you on Saturdays. He had broken that tradition earlier, when he arrived shortly after you launched ahead of the mailbox finish line in place of his younger brother, of whom he had been expecting, and so he figured that he could give in to Tori's insisting just this once when she asked him, again, as she did every week, to come to the Movie Night. 

He tried to focus on the movie. It was about a boy and his two wizard friends, maybe he was a wizard too, he wasn't paying attention. He could see you in his peripherals, a delighted smile reigning over your face and lighting up the whole room, for him, at least. If you picked up on his thoughts, you didn't do anything to change your behavior. 

A flare of anger shot through him, one Toriel picked up immediately. She pressed her side into his, arm wrapping around his shoulder and she waited to do the same for her. He did. He cuddled up close to his girlfriend, kissing her cheek without missing a beat. He watched as an old man stalked the small child, a haggard older man with a name that fit his appearance. Who named their child Haggard, he would never know. The boy, Henry, Sans thought, was delighted as he was pulled into the shack. Haggard leaned in close to Henry, his voice purring from the speakers, "Y'er a wizard, Harry," Harry? 

He rolled his pupils. Human movies were so weird. He didn't understand the allure of them before, and he didn't understand it now, but Papyrus seemed happy enough. That was good enough for him. Sans pressed his back into the soft cushions the couch offered, his jacket sliding against bone as he shifted. He gave up on trying to understand the odd information coming from the movie, instead choosing to dwell on the source of his anger. 

Sans could still practically feel the day he kicked you out. It charged through him like electricity, the memory as vivid as if it were earlier that day. He could still feel the air, crisper than this Winter's, gliding across his bones and stealing into his house as he stared you down. He could hear your car as it pulled out of his driveway, a sound he hadn't heard since. He could still see the hurt confusion that had crept into your eyes as you looked into his one final time, idly wondering if you really were confused, or if you were tugging at his heartstrings. It had worked if you were, the scratch of wood against his bones still presented itself like phantom lovers, and sometimes, he could still see the tears he had shed after you left. 

But he was angry. Furious then, furious now. You had to know what you did. There was no way you didn't. Sans pressed his face into the fluff of his girlfriend's side, which protruded from her dress at odd angles. He really wished she would put on a jacket or something, anything warmer than that dress. He was absolutely _chilled to the bones_ , and while Toriel had fur lining her body, that didn't change the fact that it was cold. 

His gaze slid over to Papyrus, who had requested that the AC be turned on instead of the heat, icy shivers now running down his bones from where he sat next to Napstablook. He had mentioned something about creating a "MORE AUTHENTIC WINTER ATMOSPHERE!", but fate was cruel, if his shudders were anything to go by. He was draped in three blankets but it wasn't doing much for him, obviously. 

Just as he was about to send a surge of magic to his brother, who appeared to have forgotten that he was made of the stuff, his eyes flicked over to you. You had just let out a content sigh, and were now whispering things to Mettaton, your words causing him to move his hand from where it was cupped around your shoulder, his fingers digging into your scalp as he turned to face you. He wondered if the two of you were going to kiss, he had yet to see that come out of your new relationship but it no doubt happened often, and turned away as emotions rolled in his gut. 

Sans was not a jealous monster, a fact he had to remind himself repeatedly in the moments that followed, his brother receiving the flow of magic from Sans' fingertips as he focused back on the screen. You were still in his peripherals, though, and he could see Mettaton touch his metallic lips to yours briefly before you moved your head to get a better angle. He couldn't accuse either of you of having no class, Undyne and Alphys were having an absolute war with their mouths on the couch to your immediate left. Even Papyrus looked ready to make a move on his ghostly friend, the sudden heat egging him on. 

There were two screens that he could focus on instead of you, one to the wall on his far right to make it easier for Papyrus and Napstablook to see the movie, not having to crane their heads to do it, and one to the wall to his far left, which made viewing a much easier affair for Undyne and Alphys for that same reason, not that they were watching. Your couch and his could choose between either, but you were in his peripherals no matter how hard he tried to get you out of his sight. 

He could see those metal digits curling in your distinct lack of hair, your lips darkening as they were stained time and time again with kisses that were no doubt as captivating to you as yours were to him. He turned to his left, Toriel looking down at him expectantly. He wasn't one to disappoint. 

His teeth pressed to her lips, filled with passion he still had for you, despite it being over three years since he had broken it off with you. He never felt bad about his involvement with Toriel, even though if someone were to read his thoughts, it would sound as though he was dating her out of spite. He did genuinely care for the anthropomorphic goat, a lot, actually, but like old habits, old feelings were hard to shake. Sans fought to lose himself in the kiss, his arms wrapping around Toriel and gliding up her back lightly. His eyes were closed, you weren't in his sights anymore. 

No one, not even Papyrus, was paying attention to the movie as it droned in the background. All of you were engaged in some show of blatant affection, and Sans wondered if it always ended up like this on your Saturdays shared with the gang. Heated lip smacking could be heard from almost every couch, Papyrus' filled with talking instead of kissing. Napstablook's rapt attention and enthusiastic answers told of his requited affection for Papyrus, Sans' nonexistent heart lifting at the thought. 

 

After a few minutes, everyone had broken off. Sans was staring into Toriel's eyes, riveted, ignoring as Mettaton did the same for you. The smile brightened his mood, but Sans could not ignore the smile that both lit up the room for him and send his mood crashing down as you gave it to Mettaton. The bucket of bolts was clearly affected, hugging you tight to him for a quick second before darting up. Sans turned to him, noticing how his cheeks were flushed with a dark red. "Whoo!" The star exclaimed, fanning himself. "I'm going to go get something to drink, anyone want to come with me?" Alphys and Undyne shot up out of their seats like rockets, filtering out of the room with Mettaton, Papyrus and Napstablook soon following. 

Toriel bumped against his shoulder, "What do you want, _verte_ bae?" A lazy smile took over his happy one. "*jus' ketchup, babe." She placed an eager kiss to the crown of his skull, walking passed you with a bright smile and awkward wave, and with her exit, only the two of you were left in the room. Your stiff posture and downcast gaze as you studied the paused screen became the center of his attention. He knew how guilty people acted, and and this was not it. Did you truly feel no remorse for..Sans cut himself off, he would not think about it. 

He kept his gaze on you, your already tight smile straining at the corners. Huh. You acted as if you were waiting for him to lash out. No, he was done with irrationality, it had gotten him far in life, but he wasn't keen on using it to push him forward anymore. Your knees knobbed together slightly as you quickly rose, marching out of the room and after your Mettaton as if the room were on fire. He called out, "*y'know, i don't bite." 

You sent him the briefest of glances, your kiss-stained lips parting only just slightly as you let out a forced, "I know," nearly dashing out of the room a heartbeat later. Sans wished he could say that it didn't sting.


	4. Now

The cold air stirred around you, your hands shoving deeper into your pockets. Streams of icy air cut through your relatively thick clothing, the useless fabric swaying and flopping in the wind. Oh, stars, why hadn't you checked the weather before coming out? Why hadn't you at least grabbed gloves? One look to your right, and you remembered why. 

Mettaton huffed beside you, his breaths coming out in white wisps and flowing behind him. You still wondered how he did that, being a robot and all. His arms slowly descended and ascended as he jogged beside you, a determined look glassing over his face. You had been so shocked at his request to partake in your nightly runs with you, you had forgotten your warm gear. You had wanted to show him your favorite routes, and had been out the door before he could ask you about your lack of clothing, and before you could dwell upon it yourself. You were draped in a simple sweatshirt with only your bindings beneath the should-be thick material, baggy sweatpants, athletic socks, and sneakers. Not a scarf, nor a hat, nor even gloves were paired with your attire. If she could see you now, Undyne would be shrieking at you. But she wasn't. It was just you and Mettaton. 

Your lips twanged into a smile as you pushed on, picking up the pace slightly. Your excited rush of happiness at remembering just how alone you were with Mettaton, and how willing he had been to join you in doing something you loved, was beginning to warm your freezing body, and you sped up on impulse. The cold continued to lick at your exposed cheeks and neck, and you brought a hand up to jerk your sweatshirt up and over your mouth. Within seconds, it slid back down, your running jostling it loose. 

"Are you alright, darling?" You turned back to Mettaton, a wild smile caressing your lips. You nodded, and tried to assure him that you were fine. "So, if we stopped now, you wouldn't be shivering?" Your wide smile faded into a sheepish one, and a soft chuckle left your lips. You shrugged almost helplessly, and began to wonder how odd you must look, running with your hands in your pockets. You let the thought slide off of you, you couldn't be bothered to care. "We can turn back and head home, if you'd like," 

You cocked your head at the offer, "What? So you could skimp out of some exercise?" You teased, leaning to the right to brush your shoulder against his arm, your smaller figure not quite matching his larger one. "Pfft, as if," You faced forward, racing ahead of the robot with an intensity that startled even you. Your short tufts of hair swayed in the wind more than they already had been, and yet again swore to get a haircut soon. Mettaton caught up easily, that determined look shining through a hundred times brighter than it had been a minute ago, his limbs straining lightly as he kept pace with you. He would most definitely have to oil his legs tonight. 

The two of you streaked down familiar streets and sidewalks, darting from one side of the street to the other as you went. The wind lashed out at newly exposed skin, having taken your hands out of your pockets within minutes of beginning your sprint. Despite the cold tearing at your skin, it began to dampen with sweat, as well as the collar of your sweatshirt, liquid dripping down your neck as you went. Your legs screamed and your thighs throbbed, you were certain that you'd be feeling this tomorrow, which was unfortunate. 

Sunday had whirled by you faster than you could blink, and Monday had followed in its wake. It felt like you were opening your eyes for the first time on Tuesday, but in what seemed like seconds, that day too had passed. Wednesday flashed faster than you could run, and Thursday had waved at you like a tease before disappearing with a dash on the calendar. Finally, Friday slowed down just a bit, enough for you to remember the day's events without having to wrinkle your nose in thought, and for the first time that week, you felt like you could live in the moment. And so here you were, running alongside your beloved and feeling the protests of your muscles, which would no doubt be much more intense when you awoke for your weekly competition with Undyne tomorrow. Whatever. 

Your lips split in a vicious grin as you lost Mettaton momentarily. You couldn't help it; Thanks to the aforementioned competitions, you were beyond competitive. Your teeth were revealed to the world briefly, chapped flesh covering them quickly as you shut your mouth. It was too cold for that. Mettaton slid into your peripherals, his jaw set and his eyebrows furrowed in what you could only describe as pure determination. He was pushing himself hard, and while you weren't sure if he could feel pain in his..Well, he didn't have muscles, but he was putting in a great effort regardless. It looked like it was hard for him to stay up with you making you feel a little bad, and so, without warning, you stopped. 

Wait, wow, ow. Your legs screeched to a halt, pain shooting through you starting at your hips and working its way down. You looked down, face screwing up in pained shock, a no doubt amusing expression showing to anyone around who witnessed it. You heard Mettaton digging his heels in the pavement seconds later, backtracking to where you stood, still staring at your legs. Your teeth were showing through a firm grimace, and your left brow was raised in confusion as you tried to analyze where the damage was coming from. 

Mettaton had to ask you twice before you registered that he was talking. You lifted your head sharply, his gaze searching you with a concern that would have melted most of his viewers' hearts. "Huh, what? Sorry." His lips twisted in a frown, and he moved closer to you. 

"I asked if you were alright," He really was concerned, his trademark 'Darling' absent. Your hands clutched at your hips as you tried to work through to the bone, massaging the tissue and biting through the stings that followed after your motions. You leaned, favoring the side that hurt the most by arching onto the other side. 

You moved your hand off of your left side, the side that hurt the least, and waved him away, telling him you were okay. His hand caught yours, and after entwining his fingers and yours, he tugged you closer to him, observing your immediate wince. "'Okay' my shiny metal.." He grumbled, closing the distance between the two of you so that you didn't have to move. His arms found their way around you after he released your hand, first around your shoulders and then tucking around your waist, keeping your arms snug against your body. While unnecessary, it had become a habit for the monster after your repeated responses to such affection a few years ago. His gaze was so intense, you found yourself shaking, though the winds that tore at your body were the last things on your mind. You fought back the urge to return to the age old habit of biting your bottom lip. "When did it start hurting?" 

"Just now," You answered truthfully. "When I stopped." He nodded slowly, his frame humming as he thought to himself. You let a smile slip over your features, which then evolved when Mettaton, who had his eyes still trained on you even when deep in thought, returned it. He released his hold on you and bent down to your level, only to continue until he was low enough to scoop you into his arms with ease, which he did. "Does this hurt, darling?" He asked, clutching you close to his chest. He could have just extended his arms, but he never liked to after doing so had resulted in a nasty pinch on your skin when the arms retracted back into their sockets. Though this event happened well over a year ago, you knew Mettaton hated that he had ever hurt you. 

You shook your head, wiggling your hips and tensing when they flared in discomfort. Mettaton took a cautious step forward, his eyes staying focused on your face for signs of displeasure. When none appeared, he continued forward slowly, his steps shaking your form, but not enough to distress your sudden injury. 

Had this been anyone else, your embarrassment would have roused within you like a dark flame, but you were with Mettaton. He may be a movie star, he may be more famous than most human actors and actresses you knew, and he may be larger than life, but he was Mettaton. _Your_ Mettaton. He was concerned for you, and just wanted to ensure that you were without pain. You couldn't feel embarrassed knowing that he loves and cares for you as much as he does. "Thanks for running with me today, babe." 

An amused smile flickered over his lips. His body began to thrum with heat as he focused on both warming you up and getting you home, and you were immediately grateful for his kindness. Without thinking, your lips opened again, and you spoke, "You really helped me reach my full _pun_ tential." 

It took a minute, but your face scrunched at that, and you cocked your head. Where did _that_ come from? You looked up at Mettaton, your eyes reflecting the silent question and your nose wrinkled in muted disgust. You didn't even like puns, your tolerance for them dying out a few years prior. Mettaton hugged you tighter to his chest, careful not to move you more than necessary, "You did splendid out there, doll." His voice dripped with nothing less than the utmost affection for you, and you almost sagged in relief. "I may not be the most fit star out there, though my body would _never_ display that fact," a smile wormed onto his face as he continued "But I pride myself with being very quick, and you looked almost at ease while beating me, a truly stunning display of athleticism and determination!" 

You sighed, your breath cloudy in front of you. Your head lolled back to view the late night sky above you, relishing in how many stars you could see. Like most monsters you knew, Mettaton had carefully selected a home in which the area around it had little light pollution. Mettaton continued to fan praises your way, no doubt sensing the unease you felt at your earlier comment, while you traced familiar patterns in the sky.

He stopped briefly after a short while, elbow reaching out to press down on the handle to your front door, but you reached out your arm to open the door for him. He walked forward, bumping it open with his hip after you had pulled your arm in. "Oh, darling, how are we going to tell Undyne that you won't be able to compete tomorrow?" His concerned expression flickered to that of one that made you shudder despite the warmth radiating off of him. "Because I am stealing you for the whole day tomorrow."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It feels so weird writing a MettatonXReader fic when the initial outline of the story was not that. Whoop.


	5. Then

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mettaton POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> REMINDER:   
> Reader is TransMale, so when others are speaking about him, they will be in masculine pronouns. Reader uses bindings because they have not started hormones or undergone surgery yet.

Cold eyes slid along the dead grass, elegant footwear shying away from the soon-to-be sludgy dirt that was visible. Mettaton sent a pointed glare in the direction of the offending dirt, proudly striding down the sidewalk away from it. Nose turned upwards, Mettaton flaunted his long legs, which pressed out in front of him a bit too much with every step forward. 

The wind ruffled the trash littering the street beside him, and he turned his nose up further in disgust. How could anyone find someplace so lowly habitable? It looked like a place fitting for some off hoodlums or pitiable beggars, not for someone as marvelous as you, and certainly not suited for someone as incredible as him. Sure, the homes were nice, placed at a value that most couldn't afford but trash? On the streets? Absolutely revolting. 

Still, Mettaton trudged on, his heels clicking against the pavement noisily and announcing his arrival as he turned into the driveway of his destination. He could have taken his car, but seeing this place in the absolute despairing state it was, he had no doubts that it would get stolen. He needn't act as though he was harrowed by the sights around him, not when the sights were as they were. Trash, come on! And what kind of home had the front sidewalk so far away from the main one? He had to walk on the driveway, digging his heels into cracks in the asphalt, to get to it! 

Horrid place. 

His posture was already perfect, but Mettaton leaned back just a bit more, squaring his shoulders as he raised a hand to knock on the door. Before his knuckles rapped on the door, he stopped to inspect the wood. It was plain, but not dirty. Well, not as dirty as it could be in this awful location. Forcing a dramatic lump down his metallic throat, Mettaton settled and knocked. It took a few minutes to gain a response, but when he did, he was surprised. 

Sans stood, looking weary and haggard as he looked down on Mettaton. His expression went from anxiety to disappointment, not a change Mettaton was particularly used to, when he saw who it was. The bags under Sans' eyes were absolutely atrocious! Someone needed to get him into a studio, and soon! "*m'yeah?" Sans drawled, the voice sounding more like a growl than a rude greeting. Mettaton brought a hand to his chest, preparing to dramatize the situation further, but one look from Sans cut that short. 

"You'll never guess who arrived at my home, absolutely positively distraught!" Well, he almost cut it short. No one could ever stop Mettaton from living out his spotlight dream, even if the only light shining was a slightly hidden sun. The world was his stage, dammit! He'd be damned if he didn't work natural spotlight like he did the artificial one. "Oh, but I wonder why?" Mettaton leaned in as if conspiring, his closeness causing the skeleton to shuffle away, retreating back into his home slightly. 

"*yeah?" Sans barked, though his eyes betrayed his curiosity. His cheekbones twitched, as if to contribute to the conversation further, but no sound came from his teeth again. Mettaton wasn't waiting for him to make up his mind, though. 

In a brilliant display of acting prowess, Mettaton threw his arms to the side, fingers curling as if holding onto something only he could feel. "Oh, yes! I remember now," His energetic eyes roved back to the skeleton, gaze turning sharper as he regarded the monster in front of him. The single word that slung from his tongue dripped with enough malice to captivate the imaginary screens that were always showing him off. "You." 

The skeleton didn't appeared to be phased in the slightest, if anything, he moved closer to the robot. "*yeah?" 

Mettaton's nose wrinkled at his friend's faux disinterest. While most wouldn't be able to tell a thing, what with Sans usually disguising his emotions behind that large grin of his, Mettaton was an actor, quite possibly the best this world has ever seen. He could read Sans like a book, but he would play into this little game. "Yes. Our dearest little darling arrived at my home last night, and were they upset! They didn't even grab their items from their car, but in the state they were in, I simply could not have allowed them to take off. I simply could not have." Sans nodded, eye sockets narrowing. "They could barely speak, oh, they were so distressed!" 

Mettaton flung his head back, eyes closing as he reached for the heavens with his right hand, the left gathering in a fist over his heart. Has he actually been on screen, there was no doubt in his mind that his ratings would have more than quadrupled, quite the feat because there simply wasn't enough life on this planet to warrant such numbers. Oh, it was so like him, going above and beyond! Enough to gain attention from the stars themselves as they recognized his greatness..

But he was wandering away from the performance at hand. Drawing his hand back, Mettaton looked into Sans' eyes as the skeleton finished rolling his eyes. Mettaton took a step forward, wedging himself in the doorway as he asked, "Why did you do it, Sans?" Mettaton could see it as Sans physically shuddered from surprise, eyes widening microscopically, but he still caught it. 

The skeleton tilted his head down even further, peering into robotic eyes with his own pixel pupils. The tone of voice he used was almost like a snarl, and Mettaton was quick to toss a hand to his chin and lift it in thought. "*you _know_ why." 

"Do I?" Mettaton looked to his left, eyeing a patch of sky that was only just barely visible from where he was standing. "Do I?" He asked again, flashing a smile to those invisible cameras before turning back to the skeleton in front of him. "Remind me again, doll face, what exactly do I know?" 

Sans gaped at the robot before him, an eyebone cocked skywards in confusion. Was he really so awestruck by Mettaton that he could not answer the question? He could get an autograph later, this was of the utmost importance! The robot tapped his foot impatiently, his arms crossing as he stared into those now dark depths some may call eyes. "*you're the one who told me, Mettaton." 

"Told you _what_ , darling. You'll have to be more specific, I say a lo-!"

Mettaton reared back in surprise as Sans cut him off, a guttural growl escaping the skeleton, who was obviously still angry about the events of yesterday. "*what they _did_ , Mettaton. what they _said_." Sans' shoulders, which were previously hunched forwards, had squared as he glared down at the star in front of him. His anger was so intense, Mettaton could not help but tug at a collar that was not there. 

Regaining his composure after the unexpected outburst, the robot planted two firm feet on the ground and leaned forward. With a pout, he stuck out his right hand, jabbing his index finger at Sans. "Oh, _that_. Doll, why didn't you say that in the first place." Tilting his head to look up at Sans, Mettaton retracted his finger from where it had been pressed into Sans' jacket, placing all five fingers on his chest as he leaned back dramatically. "Why, if you had mentioned that first, there would be no misunderstanding, would there?" 

"*do you even know what i'm talking about?" 

Mettaton scoffed, closing the extended fingers into a fist, feigning shock. "Why, of course darling!" I-!" 

"*tell me what i'm talking about, then." 

This time, Mettaton could not stifle his anger at being cut off once more. No one was as rude to Mettaton as Mettaton was rude to others. "First of all, _darling_ ," The robot growled, jabbing his fingers back into the skeleton's jacket and forcing him back a step. "Do _not_ interrupt me again. It's terribly rude, don't you agree?" Sans said nothing, his agitated expression the only clear sign that he was paying attention. "And second of all, we are talking about what I showed you yesterday morning." 

Sans nodded, his grimace furthering as Mettaton yet again thrust his index finger into Sans' stomach. Mettaton could sense his sudden regret at asking him to relay the information he had passed just yesterday, and so made no further comments on the issue. Never one for an absence of drama and acting, however, the robot spun sharply on his heels, his left leg extending to an exaggerated length. He glared at Sans over his shoulder, feigning disgust to hide his glee at seeing the skeleton look so defeated. 

"It's fitting, anyway. No partner of mine should have ever lived in such a dump," Mettaton lifted a hand from where it sat on his hip, both having moved to rest on either side of him to further the climactic acting he was displaying, gesturing to the streets. A single plastic bag sailed across the streets, caught in a gust of wind, but otherwise the streets were in pristine condition. "Absolutely hideous!" 

"*partner of yours?" 

His expressive scowl lifted into a knowing smirk, picking up on the skeleton's apprehensive interest before he had even spoken. Tossing his head to the side, Mettaton grinned at the skeleton, he had captured Sans in a web that would eat away at him for now. "Yes, partner." Your name slid from his lips with practiced ease, his confidence blazing, "My beloved darling, oh, how could I abandon him? He looked so sad, and I know just how to comfort someone who needs it." Mettaton mocked Sans, imitating that playful wink that the skeleton had often used on him, planting thoughts with a smile. 

It wasn't true, most of it wasn't, so far. But Sans didn't need to know that no, you hadn't told him anything that went on last night. He could see it in your eyes when he welcomed you into his home, but you had gone to sleep shortly after arriving, too distraught to do or say thing. With that, Sans did not need to know that no, you had not engaged in scandalous activities with the beautiful star, though Mettaton was sure that you would have had you not been so tired. Words came easily to the robot, and if he could woo millions, he could woo you. 

And most definitely, Sans did not need to know that what he had told the skeleton yesterday morning, the 'evidence' he had provided as well, were lies. Fakes. Hoaxes and deception. No, he most certainly had no need for that information. Seeing the blatant confusion toying within that elusive expression Sans was struggling on holding, Mettaton could tell that he hadn't an inkling at Mettatons' tricks. 

"If you'll excuse me, Sans, I have someplace to be," Mettaton turned his head so the back of it faced the shocked skeleton, his smile diving back down into a scowl. " _Someone_ to attend to." 

Mettaton began to move forward, not missing it as the door clicked shut behind him. He wondered how Sans would react to this new 'Information' upon seeing you next, but decided that the two of you would not meet again until those words were actually true and you were his. He would, without a doubt, find out that it wasn't true, but Mettaton knew he could play it off as the relationship not having been official until when it actually happened. 

Avoiding the disastrous dirt and crumby streets that were practically lined with trash, Mettaton started for home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm probably going to start putting ------ or something along that line in place of what I have been doing to put in Readers' name. I think it'll make it easier on both myself and you guys? I'll start that up after this chapter


	6. Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mettaton POV

"...To say they were unprepared would have been an understatement, but to say they didn't fight valiantly would have been a lie! They gave everything they could, and if that meant giving their lives, they gave that too," 

Despite having heard the tale of how Mettaton's bodyguards fought through a very large crowd for him after his first performance, you were giving him as much attention as you possibly could. It was absolutely thrilling to have an audience that hung onto his every word like you did, most would shut the program off after having seen it dozens of times. Not you, though. You were too in love with him, Mettaton could see it in your eyes. Today had likely only strengthened that love.

True to his word, Mettaton had stolen you away for the _whole_ day, turning down conferences and scheduled appearances and turning away one very confused Undyne to spend as much time with you as he could. Oddly, you had just wanted to settle in bed and stay there, and so that's where you were on this incredibly lazy day. Both you and he were tangled in the sheets, you with your head propped up on your hand, gazing up at him with a fondness that rivaled the love he had for himself, him positioned on his knees as he recounted the story, hands flailing for dramatic amusement. "Why, the humans couldn't get enough of their favorite Lost Star, oh darling, it must have been exhilarating for them to just see me in person!" 

Mettaton saw your smile widen at that, as it always did at this point of the story. A rush of emotion flooded through him, when this whole mess involving you started, he certainly hadn't expected to catch feelings. He had assumed he would be with you until the limelight became too much for you, and he would send you back to your ex or a friend until the two of you could regain friendship. He was not going to give you up anytime soon, though. You didn't seem keen on leaving, either, much to his immense delight. 

His voice caught in a deep purr as he continued, "My, how they must have been downright dumbfounded at seeing a glorious being such as me emerge from that dreary mountain! I am, without a doubt, the most beloved monster," He waited for you to scowl at him like so many others had, it was a reflex. You didn't, he knew you wouldn't, you never did, but he had seen that look of silent accusation cross over many loved ones when he declared statements similar to that. He wasn't narcissistic, though, he was truthful. Most of the time. 

From the large and elegant windows placed around the room almost haphazardly, though still beautifully, Mettaton could see that the sun was beginning to lower under the horizon. His internal clock, a literal one, told him that it was half passed four in the afternoon. The two of you had successfully wasted a day together, and Mettaton couldn't help wanting to buy himself another day in your company. He was so busy as of late, having to rely on seeing you and your handsome self on scheduled occasions thrown in throughout the day, but such is the fate of a star. He was pushing it by using this day to be with you, though if anyone caught word of why he canceled his appointments, his ratings would no doubt rise. Perhaps he should leak the reason. 

The first being you had to get bandaged up. You had pulled a tendon in your calf and strained your obliques during last night's run. Mettaton had no need for a doctor, he was knowledgeable in all things beautiful, and saving the life of someone else was just that. 

The second, and arguably most important, reason for the sudden day off was that he needed to see that look in your eyes. The look that made him firmly believe of your wondrously large affection for him, the smile that made it to those glossy orbs without hesitation. He lived for it, today. After that comment yesterday, fear had shot through him that you were spending too much time with that damned skeleton. Which was ridiculous, you strayed far away from him after that _unfortunate_ event a few years ago, but fear is almost never rational. He had no doubt that you would not cheat on him, but should Sans tempt you too much, would you leave him? 

No, that answer was confirmed today. You always wanted to be near him, not quite doting on his needs but definitely paying him the affection he wanted to see. Needed to see. You would not leave him, and Sans would not tempt you, because neither of you knew of Mettaton's deception. Not even after he had confronted Sans had the skeleton figured it out, or even thought it to be a possibility, if his later actions were anything to go by. And, as you had often stated when you first came to his mansion, you didn't know what had turned the tides so abruptly in your relationship. You would not leave him. 

Mettaton twisted and turned through all the edges of the familiar story, losing himself in the theatrics of it all. Beautiful, he was beautiful. Stunning, he was riveting. The star this Earth needed, a gem that needed to be unearthed before it could be appreciated, and oh, by the stars, he was shining. "...Their hero!" He gasped, throwing himself back and arching his back in an almost sensual way. His hands pressed firm against his chest as he exaggerated and overdid the story, not that you minded, obviously. 

His soul thudded in his chest at the idea that you would find out what he had done, but it was calm within him now. You wouldn't find out if neither you nor Sans talked much anymore, and he knew that the two of you did not. Sans, due to your 'Betrayal', distanced himself quite a bit for a while after the breakup, and it had been two years after it until Papyrus, the dear, forced him to come over to at least say a greeting to you. He meant well, Papyrus did, but staying in Mettaton's home until Sans was forced to show up seemed almost cruel, and then making sure that you were the one to allow Sans in? Cruel, cruel spaghetti child. His attempts to build bridges over the broken ones hadn't worked, much to Mettaton's immediate relief, but it had closed the distance some. Sans even began to attend social events with your little clique on the odd occasion. 

You did not talk to Sans because of his obvious and very real betrayal. He had kicked you out without even asking for an explanation, something Mettaton was hoping for but he didn't expect Sans to actually _not_ question you. But he hadn't, instead throwing you out and shunning you, something he continued to do even now.

It was marvelous, if the robot was honest with himself. 

Falling for you had not been in the plan, hell, being with you for more than a month hadn't been in the plan. It wasn't ideal, him having assumed early on that you were not a suitable partner for him, but oh stars, were you a suitable match. More than that. You were so much more than that. 

No, Mettaton told himself again. He would not allow you to go, you were too precious to him. He thirsted for your love for him, and radiated love for you in return. It would have been impossible to be as indifferent to your leaving as Sans had appeared to be, to you, when he kicked you out. Mettaton knew it was absolutely galaxy-shaking for the skeleton, but that was another thing you did not know. "Why, the fans were wild, darling! As expected, who wouldn't be excited at seeing _me_?" 

He would stop you if you ever decided to leave. He would do just as Sans did not, and he would try to ensure you did not just flee. He would question and comfort you until you came back to him, he could not be without you. You were a life source to him now, a decently large portion of his happiness deriving from your affection. And if that skeleton ever tried to win you back? That lump of dust would be one he would gladly stomp into. 

You were his, and he was going to keep it that way. He didn't restrain your movements nor did Mettaton choose who you spent your time with, he wasn't that manipulative or controlling, aside from what he had done to Sans to get that skeleton to release you, but he would stop you should you choose to leave. Of that, he was certain. He just had to love you harder so you wouldn't want to leave. 

With an enthralling intake of air, dramatic effect of course, Mettaton gasped, "And oh, darling, do they love me!"


	7. Now

You were surprised a great deal when, the Saturday after the one you spent with Mettaton, Papyrus and Undyne were not the only ones to show up at your door. You hadn't seen him at first, but after opening your door for your friends, you watched in muted shock as Sans pushed his way into the door, following after Undyne slowly. That makes it twice you've seen him this month, and that was more than you saw him in six. 

He flashed a bright smile, your anxiety only building. "*Pap wanted to participate and asked if I'd grade," he explained. "*figured hey, haven't seen you in a while, why not?" Your lips twisted into a grimace at that, Sans was obviously building confidence. Your frown flopped into a lopsided smile, perhaps he didn't hate you as much as you had thought he did? Or, at the very least, he was pressing passed it? For everyone's sake? Mettaton would be overjoyed. 

You lead the trio down a long hallway, stopping at the familiar workout room. You'd only just started using it again yesterday, the heavy strain on your hips and calves lowering to a dull ache instead of the roaring shock of pain that had been stabbing at you for nearly a week. You pushed the door open with your shoulder, fingers grasping the doorknob tightly as you crooked it, sliding the door open and leaving it that way for the others to follow. 

The dawn sun was casting dark shadows along the walls, an ominous aura emitting from the usually friendly room. You paused at it mentally, your legs still carrying you forward as you tried to tally just how long it had been since you spent more than a few moments with Sans. You scolded yourself, you weren't spending any time with the skeleton. You were spending time with your friends, he just happened to follow along. Still, the answer burned brightly in your mind. It had been over three years, now. The very date danced along your tongue, you'd just passed the three year anniversary, hadn't you? 

You passed over the soft carpet wordlessly, not picking up the odd glances you were receiving from your friends as they pondered your silence. Your bubbly attitude was always there to greet them, followed by the competitive comments that promised to rouse Undyne during the warm up. Neither of those things happened as you bent to the side, right arm overhead as you stretched your triceps. You caught their eyes and offered a small smile, pointedly ignoring Sans now. With one final tug on the suspended wrist, a loud crack snapped into the air, and you moved to stretch your left arm. 

From your peripherals, you could see Sans gazing at you intensely. What was his problem? Your back cracked as you pulled your wrist harshly, immediately bowing to touch your toes and continue stretching. Undyne and Papyrus made their way over to you, repeating your earlier stretch before joining you in this one. As you bent your legs and began to rise slowly, the view that stretched across the ceiling captivated you. Whomever brought the dawn was pulling no stops, an allure of beautiful reds and pinks and oranges spilling across the tiles and washing away the shadows. 

You leaned back, arms stretched above your head as you waited until your back crack. You saw Sans wince at that, and while you didn't necessarily have to, you assuaged his concern, "They do that when I stretch. The bones." 

You had been fit when you were with him, but not to this degree. Your muscles rippled with your every movement, a powerful display of just how hard you've worked in the last few years. You hadn't been a fitness junkie then, with small, yet still impressive-ish, muscles adorning your body after the small little workouts you had tri-weekly, and he'd never been with you doing a workout. You inwardly scoffed, at least Mettaton tried. 

Your bones and joins crackled then, but not quite as much. You lowered yourself to a seated position, right leg swung over the left which laid flat against the carpet. You wrapped your left arm around your right leg and swung your body to the right, stretching until you were satisfied before switching over. Left over right, right on left, and to the left. Your back cracked viciously, the sound filling the air enthusiastically. A soft coo left your lips, the sensation always filled your body with relief, even if you knew it wasn't good for you. 

"So, uh, Human?" You looked up and offered a bright smile to Undyne, who towered over you. "You're being, uh, kinda quiet?" Were you? "Something up?" Your gaze flickered behind her briefly, and you were filled with a daunting emotion as you tried to press back the comment wanting to emerge from your lips. You didn't like puns, you reminded yourself, hardly able to keep your expression straight as you blatantly lied to yourself. 

"Definitely!" You chirped, surprising those in the room. "The sun's up, Undyne. I thought you knew that." Papyrus sent you a look of utter betrayal, and Undyne furrowed her brows in a warning. From over by the door, a deep, though soft, laughter began to fill the room. "But no, seriously, I'm fine," Good, that damned joke didn't slip passed. "Just a little, y'know, shocked, I guess? Mildly. When I woke up this morning, I didn't expect to have another guest, but hey! A friend of yours is fine," 

Sans flinched at that. Hard. 

You turned to face him, inwardly pleading that he not make it more awkward than it was by trying to add something in. He must have heard you, because Undyne was the next person to speak up, "Punk! That loser over there," She gestured to Sans, arm extended and index pointing, "Is your friend, too!" She must not have heard your plea, as that was exactly what you hadn't wanted Sans to say. 

You narrowed your eyes at her, your smile straining at the corners. Your shoulders hunched in a dismissive shrug, "Not really," And before she could argue further, you jumped to your feet. "So, first event's the right handed pull up? We should probably get started now," Undyne looked like she wanted to argue with you, but brushed by you instead. You turned to face Papyrus to invite him, he had wanted to come and compete alongside you and Undyne, but the look on his face stopped you. 

He was staring at you with such an intensity that it was unnerving. His face was dripping with unconcealed dread, and before you could speak, he, too, moved passed you. Your teeth flash as you pulled back your lips in an anxious frown, walking around and catching up with them easily. 

You dominated the first two events, the right handed pull up and then the left. You swiped the third event, push ups, like a pro, and the fourth, sit ups, followed immediately after that. The ten minute plank that followed was little more than a twang in your gut from time to time, but you took that, too. Your hip was burning, though, by the time the sixth event, the handstand with awkward push ups was a breeze though. You idly wondered if Sans was counting them right, but it appeared that Undyne was also suffering from injury, and Pap kept tilting or falling half way through the exercises, disqualifying him. He wasn't used to the exercises, they were monumentally different from his own training workouts, and it was hard for him to keep the pace.

When the three of you rolled off the floor and began to head outside, you were greatly uncomfortable as Sans moved to walk beside you, the other two rushing ahead. You rubbed your hips absently with your thumbs, your hands placed on them though it looked awkward while walking. Sans shuffled beside you, his hands hidden away in his pockets, but for a lazybones, he was decently fast. You kept lengthening your strides and quickening your pace to separate yourself from the skeleton, but he always caught up. 

"*kiddo, i don't bite." 

His voice startled you briefly, you hadn't been expecting him to talk to you. You nodded, not sure how to respond. Aside from two Saturdays ago, when was the last time you talked to him? No, referring to the entire group when talking didn't count as talking to him. "I know," _Pal_. Your lips began to move as that final word tried to slip by you, but you caught it easily. Over three years. The day that had caused you to shut yourself in annually until last year. The day that tickles the back of your throat whenever it was mentioned, not just the event but the very date sent prickles lining your skin. It was before the breakup, you remembered. Over text, it was a few hours previous, but he had been distant even then. 

The last time had been the morning of the breakup, you realized with a gasp. Sans had already been staring at you intensely, but your expression only hardened his gaze. Without thinking of it, you whispered, " _I know_." 

A cold breeze danced along your face, ruffling the tufts atop your head and disturbing the warmth that had previously surrounded you. In their haste, both Undyne and Papyrus had forgotten to shut the front door. You stepped forward, a new determination setting your jaw as you moved towards the goal of putting as much distance between yourself and Sans as you could, whisking out the door without another word. 

Wind licked at your skin as you raced forward, darting to catch up with the others. They were so far ahead, too far ahead for their separation to have been accidental. Your fingers ran over your right hip as it began to sting and protest, your breaths coming out in short bursts to block out the sudden pain. "Undyne!" You called out, moving to a swift limp. "Papyrus! Wait up!" 

They didn't. 

You'd already won, you didn't need to partake in the next few events. You'd only embarrass yourself, the injury was unforgiving and you would flop without a doubt. Still, you did not want to be alone with Sans. You were reliving that day, and it was torture. With the gritty feeling of phantom dirt lying beneath your fingernails and the gentle caress of wind that was not today's, the everything that was that day, came the feelings. 

Vibrations spiraled in your gut as you remembered the hurt, eyes welling up as you almost physically felt the betrayal coursing through you. With a shuddered sigh, your shoulders slumped and you watched your friends continue to walk away from you. Papyrus shot an empathetic gaze your way, and you had a feeling that them leaving was necessary. 

You were a grown man, you told yourself. A confident young man who could punch the living shit out of anyone who tried to say otherwise, regardless of what you were born with. What you still had. Just because you hadn't undergone surgery did not change the fact that you were a man. Even if you weren't as masculine as you are, you would still be a man. A strong, powerful, handsome man with the most wonderful boyfriend anyone could ever ask for, who would never lie to or trick you. No, Mettaton wouldn't lead you along only to smash your hopes for no reason. Mettaton was the love of your life, and no skeleton was going to change that. 

Your jaw set and your eyes dried, wetting again as you faced the wind and pushed back to where Sans stood. You stopped a dozen or so, definitely not less than a dozen, paces away from him. You lowered yourself so that you were sitting on the asphalt of your driveway, adding pressure to your hip as you tried to relieve it of the sparks of pain currently electrocuting your bones. 

The bag of bones to your left was studying you hard, you could tell it even with your eyes closed. You continued down until your back was resting on the cold ground and you appeared dead to the world, aside from the slight movement from your chest and fingers. In your mind, your lips were flapping. You were asking Sans why, and he was giving you answers, and you were getting justice. And you were finding peace. Peace you had previously thought you had held, but apparently not.

You didn't know that Sans was imagining similar things. 

"*d'you know that song?" 

You cracked an eye open, lazily looking up at the skeleton. In your head, you were replying snarkily, telling him how could he was at being descriptive and giving you a narrow idea of what song he was talking about. "*uh, right. um. think it's called "Skeleton" by Kate Nash?" Better, you supposed. You shook your head, indicating to him that no, you hadn't heard of the song before. Rocking on the balls of his feet, Sans teetered slightly before beginning again. His voice was light and jumped randomly, likely to the tune of the song he was talking about. "*this skeleton is your friend," You closed your eye, you couldn't deal with this. 

His voice broke slightly, him having turned back to a normal, non-sing song tone. "*uh, yeah, that's not how it goes, but it fits. because i am your friend." 

"I've heard the tune before," You cut in, ignoring what he had just said completely. "I think it was playing on Spotify or YouTube, something like that. I think I listened to it during a workout, I don't know. Maybe I didn't. The tune is familiar, though." 

"*yeah?" 

"Yeah." 

Your breath huffed out in puffy clouds that you refused to see, not opening your eyes just so they could look up at the source of your pain. You could feel his presence, he was towering over you. Your chest ached from the pressure of your bindings as they bit into you, and you decided you were tired of this. It happened annually, though usually on the day and not several days after. Whether you shut yourself in or flaunted in front of cameras, your feelings bled into your veins like the very life substance they were masquerading as. "Sit next to me?" You felt his initial hesitation, and added, a smile flickering on your face. "I don't bite." 

He was close enough now that when he sat down, his slippered feet slid against the fabric of your sweatpants for a moment before he pulled away. "*i got a question," 

You hummed lightly, fingers still working at your injury. "Go for it." 

From what could only be a short distance away, you heard laughter that could only belong to one monster. Undyne was calling out to Papyrus, her voice loud and boisterous, "Come on, don't tell me you're as slow as your brother!" 

Papyrus shrieked in response, "I'M NOT A LAZYBONES!" 

The bear crawl event was going well, you mused. After another minute, Sans spoke up again, though his voice betrayed the fact that the question he wanted to ask was not the question slipping from his teeth. "*what happened to your hip?" 

The Friday before last replayed in your mind pleasantly. You recalled the thrum of your feet pounding against the paved sidewalks, the thrill of the wind whipping your hood around like a useless parachute, the sheer intensity of running at your full pu-potential. You inwardly scolded yourself for nearly mixing up your previous mistake and the actual word again. "Mettaton and I were running before last Saturday's competition and I strained it." 

Your eyes were open now, and you saw him nod his head. Skull. Whatever. Anxiety still racked your body, the turbulent emotion showing you no mercy as it kissed goosebumps onto your skin and pounded into your head with punches almost as fierce as yours. Undyne was so close, now, you were almost afraid that if you began to talk, she would race by and hear something she didn't need to. You opened your mouth, "I ha-!" 

Undyne skidded to a halt in front of you, her pose morphing from an odd bear to a pleased dog as she yelped, "Hey, punk, you see that? I won! This event.." She trailed off, looking even more determined than you had just felt. Before you could remind her that the finish line-mailbox was a few more paces to the right, Papyrus darted passed you both, merging into the grass across from you to avoid striking Undyne's body with his own. 

"Undyne, you still need to go passed the mailbox." Her eyes lit up with shock as she turned her head towards her new destination. Papyrus was less than a stride away, and she bounded towards him, galloping as fast as she could, but it wasn't fast enough. Within seconds, Papyrus was jumping to his feet and letting out loud whoops, Undyne challenging him to beat him in the next two events without missing a beat. 

The sentence you had been yearning to tell Sans, simply to get rid of the crushing nervousness that accompanied it, had long since died on your lips. You gathered to your feet and stretched, your hip popping and sending bolts of pain rocketing through you. Yeah, you'd be missing out on the next three events, definitely. 

Limping towards your two friends, your smile shook as you looked back towards the one you left behind. Your rich voice trembled almost as much as you did, staring into those curious eye sockets without hesitation. Your voice lifted to its girlish tone as you tried to mirror the tune from earlier, "Skeleton you are my friend," 

His smile became more sincere, though he didn't move to join the three of you. Lazybones, you thought to yourself. Turning back to Undyne and Papyrus, you did not miss the enthusiastic smiles that formed over their lips and teeth, Undyne letting out a cheer of her own. "Awesome! You guys aren't being total losers anymore!" 

Not necessarily true, you didn't think of him as a friend yet. Not if you were truthful. Like you'd been saying before you got cut off, thankfully, you had a few question for Sans of your own. Perhaps they could be asked when you were more comfortable with the topic, though. Yes, you confirmed, they could wait. 

Seeing as how Sans wasn't looking to get up anytime soon, you would have to serve as the judge for the next two competitions. The last one would be finishing up near Sans, so if you couldn't make it over there in time, he would be able to determine the winner. As you separated yourself from your not-really friend, you couldn't help but imagine how excited Mettaton would be at the prospect of you and Sans becoming friends again.


	8. Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mettaton POV

Mettaton was not excited at the news you brought him. He'd been happy to hear of your second win in a row against Undyne, but when it spun to the topic of you mending your friendship with Sans, his mood darkened like the sky at dusk. Anger and dread poured into his soul and overtook him so much, he feared he might have to revert to his original box form to keep his expressions in check. 

It wasn't necessary, however, as shortly after you had recounted the day's events, you slipped away to draw yourself a bath and wash away the grime from your skin. Left alone, Mettaton could only ponder at what would happen next. 

Sans clearly hadn't brought up the reason for the abrupt breakup, and Mettaton doubted you ever would. If he was correct, he had a limited amount of time before the both of you found out about his deception and you turned against him. He could allow that, he supposed. Mettaton could deal with you rebelling against him until he was able to woo you again, and he would woo you time and time again. Even if he wasn't the most incredible star to have risen out of that damned mountain, he would retrieve you until the end of time. 

After all, you weren't allowed to simply just _leave_ him. Mettaton cared about you too much to have you just walk up and leave whenever _you_ pleased, and it wasn't likely that he'd tire of you anytime soon. You adored him, cherished him, held him above a higher pedestal than his biggest fans. You were his biggest fan, and his greatest love. Even if you didn't love him anymore, and he would make sure it didn't come to that, he would still love you as fiercely as he loved himself. 

You were the stardust attached to his ethereal form, and he could not do without you. Your very presence gave him life, your every movement gave his world light. You couldn't just leave. 

A cruel smile crossed his metal lips, even if that dumpy skeleton were to tell you what Mettaton had told him, he could simply accuse Sans of lying. He had orchestrated this whole thing, though it hadn't played out as he had imagined, he certainly wasn't complaining about the outcome. If Mettaton had to twirl and dance a bit more to keep you by his side, he would do it in a heartbeat. After all, he wasn't the greatest actor of all time for nothing. 

Mettaton fanned his fingers down his legs, sliding digits over smooth metal. You called out for him from the bathroom adjacent to the room, and Mettaton shouted to you that he was coming. As he stood and began to move towards the door that kept your form from his sight, Mettaton decided the outcome of this little bump. You would not be leaving him, not now, not ever. He didn't care if he had to manipulate the situation even further, lies came as easily to him as breathing did to you. 

With a final thought before disappearing into the bathroom, Mettaton thought to Toriel, the unexpected but not unpleasant twist in this little fairy tale. Sans wouldn't break her heart, and so he needn't worry. And if something did arise, he had backup plans. 

Mettaton slipped behind the bathroom door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter is short


	9. Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mettaton POV

Before the door had even slid into position within the doorway, Mettaton froze, his structure set on edge. Your voice, which was lazy with exhaustion, hung in the air, "I'm going to ask Sans why he did it," The finality within your tone was so unnerving, "I want to know what did it." Mettaton's shoulders hunched as the door moved into place. The soft click sounded like the cruel beat of a drum, and he was sure that when he turned to face you, a heady conviction would be set in your eyes, and you would turn away from him much too soon. Instead, he whirled around, fully prepared to combat any ideas of abandoning him, to see your eyes heavily lidded and a yawn thrusting from your lips. 

His gaze softened immediately. Striding over to you, Mettaton could not stop the fond smile that graced his lips even if he wanted to. You were rubbing at your eye with your left hand, your right cupping over your mouth to catch another yawn that escaped. Your right eye was closed shut, the intensity of your yawn causing tears to wear at the corners of your eye. When you pulled both hands away, you offered a dopey smile up at your lover, and had he had a heart, Mettaton's would have soared. 

You settled deeper into the warm water, the ripples of your movement shifting over your shoulders as they dipped beyond the mild waves. You nearly slipped further than you had wanted to, your eyes closing fully as the day finally began to grab at you. When you roused from the half second of sleep, your eyes squinted at the wall in front of you. "Darling," Mettaton bent down so he was curved at an odd angle, but not an unfamiliar one. "You cannot worry about such trivial things. We've moved passed this, haven't we?" 

You nodded, shutting your eyes tightly before opening them again. You really shouldn't fall asleep in a bathtub that was large enough to house a body with ease and plenty of room to spare, but the water was so warm. It sloshed against your skin as you planted your feet against the floor, pushing yourself up. Your skin protested after being exposed to the cold air, but you ignored it. "Maybe he hates me?" 

Mettaton gasped, closing the gap between the two of you to rub his cheek against the top of your head. "Who could ever hate you, darling?" 

"Sans. Maybe." 

Mettaton furrowed his brows and his tin voice began to fill the room again. "Of course he doesn't hate you. If he did, would he have talked to you today? Absolutely not, darling. Don't fester around such thoughts, they're not healthy," You let out a soft sigh and turned to your side, facing Mettaton. You wanted to just sleep, and the tub seemed like a very nice spot to do that right now. Your eyes closed again, but you hummed in response. 

"Mm'okay. He doesn't now. Maybe he did when he broke up with me, though." 

Mettaton cupped a hand over your exposed shoulders, careful not to touch the water. While Alphys had gifted him with a waterproof coating, he'd rather not risk anything when you were involved. Shaking your body lightly, he was able to get you to rouse a bit more, enough to sit up and get your face away from those tantalizing ripples. You gave him a goofy smile and a somber word of gratitude, but Mettaton wasn't paying attention to that. "Darling, let's not talk about him anymore. The subject is still a very sensitive one for you, I don't want you upset." 

Had your eyes been able to focus through their sleepy haze, you would have noticed how Mettaton's eyes grew almost desperate. You didn't even register the hitch in his voice that betrayed the fact that he was not good at acting when it was around you. Sleep fogged your mind and clouded your thoughts, which were no longer coherent when spoken aloud. You murmured to yourself, mostly unintelligible words, "I..Ah, n'y.." Your words slurred and your eyes shut tightly again. "Hah..I don't, _ah_..Wah..na.." A smile caressed your lips, and you opened your eyes to gaze up at Mettaton with what he could only describe as hazardous determination. "B'eh ups..t.." You trailed off, your head falling momentarily before you jerked away. 

"Darling, let's get you out of this tub. I am not having you fall asleep in here." With a bit more prompting, Mettaton was able to lead you away from the water, watching as it went down after he flipped a switch. You began to shiver, and he fetched a nearby towel and draped it across your skin, brushing away stray and runaway droplets until you were dry. You mumbled something about not getting to use more than a little bit of lather to clean yourself up, and he assured you that it was fine. 

Scooping you into his arms with nothing but a towel adorning your body, you having left your clothes in the room, Mettaton walked back into your shared bedroom, flicking the bathroom light off with his elbow before heading out. Upon arriving, he immediately set out for the lavish and large bed, setting you gently onto the covers and turning to fetch you some laundry. 

Calling over his shoulder, he asked you what you would like to wear. When he got no response, Mettaton peered over his shoulder, quickly finding that you had already fallen asleep. He was glad you had yearned for him earlier, not wanting to think about what would have happened. He would have joined you regardless of you having sent for him or not, unless you specifically instructed him not to. Still, arriving too late was a scary thought; Mettaton was always punctual. 

Pulling out some baggy pajama pants, a red pair gifted by Papyrus with the word "COOL!" written all over it in black fabric marker, Mettaton snagged a pair of boxers and wandered back over to you. Sliding both clothing articles over your legs, Mettaton went back and retrieved a large button up shirt, the partner to the pants, though this time with the word "DUDE!" scrawled across the front and thrice on each of the sleeves, and tucked you into it. Once you were settled, he grabbed your legs, which were hanging over the side of the bed, and set them firm over top the covers. 

He busied himself with moving you so that you were beneath no less than three layers of the elegant sheets. He had grown accustomed to taking care of you at night, you not usually allowing him to do so while you were awake, which usually resulted in you not taking care of yourself at all. You were too cute trying to mirror what you had learned masculinity was, trying to shake your birth gender away from you. Your efforts were commendable, but that didn't mean to deny yourself luxuries such as _blankets_ in the middle of _Winter_.

You were a silly little darling. _His_ silly little darling. 

Mettaton ran a hand through his hand, or, at least, tried to. His movements were cut short as metal tapped against metal, and he pulled his hand back down, resting it on your calf. The edge of the bed wasn't a comfortable place to sit, but his thoughts grounded him for the time being. 

What was he going to do? You wanted to confront Sans. Perhaps Sans would be angry still? Perhaps he would push you away even further, not offering an explanation simply because you had yet to? You didn't know to what you needed to confess, that was what he was so adamant about not allowing you to find out. How could he explain that he had told Sans that you'd been found out to be a cheat, a fraud, a thief, and that you'd take pleasure in hurting Sans' loved ones? It wasn't true, obviously, but Sans hadn't questioned it. 

If you questioned Sans, though..

No, Mettaton confirmed with a curt nod to nobody. If Sans tried to tell you of all Mettaton's lies, he would deny them. He would tell you that Sans was a jealous monster who wanted what he had so easily tossed aside because his relationship with Toriel wasn't as glamorous as your relationship with him was. Was it glamorous? Mettaton didn't know, and he didn't care. He would find a way to explain it all away. 

The cheat thing? Oh, well, modern technology did wonders for him in this regard three years prior, when he constructed faux messages and edited pictures to make it appear as though you were cheating on the skeleton. He could do it again, twist it so that it seemed like he and Sans were texting, and Sans had threatened him. That was an easy accusation to whittle away should it prove necessary to do so. 

The fraud thing? Creating false police reports and official documents depicting you as a hooligan had been almost too easy. Choosing an incorrect name for you had been the hardest part of that ordeal, honestly. The reports didn't go as far as to point you as someone who should be placed on a watch list, just some petty crimes like vandalism when you were younger. Still, Sans had been livid that you would "hide such things from him". Mettaton wasn't sure how he would use this against Sans, he didn't necessarily need to use all of them. Perhaps he wouldn't. 

A thief, well, that was, again, easy. Most humans hungered for monster currency, as when converted it made all of the monsters who had more than ten coins richer than most humans could ever hope to be in a lifetime. Sans had worked the odd job for years Underground, though his living spaces wouldn't show it. He had provided Sans faux evidence showing that you had found out just how much he was worth, and were preparing to update your list of crimes. 

The pleasure in hurting Sans' loved ones, however, was without a doubt the hardest. Your kind heart and bright soul nearly gave the whole spiel away, but Mettaton wasn't known as a master of persuasion for nothing. Already doubting you, Sans had allowed himself to be lulled by the robot's words, falling even further down the rabbit hole. When Mettaton had told Sans that you would like nothing more to see the crushed faces of all their friends when you eventually abandoned them to join some Human Pride cult, Sans needed no evidence. Not that he had had any. 

Sans had been so livid, it was exhilarating. His expression promised a bad time, and his absent voice only secured the notion that the promise would be fulfilled, and shortly. Mettaton could remember that day like it was moments ago, simply because he was trying to figure out a way to backtrack. 

Sans had been frowning. Perhaps that had been the most damning thing that day. His pupil-less sockets had been unnerving, his rigid stature had been off, and his clenched fists had been almost scary. But when those lips twisted into an unholy grimace, certainly not suiting the usually comical skeleton, it had made Mettaton want to run. For a few brief moments, he had been fearful that Sans would turn and tell him that he knew that Mettaton was lying, but instead the skeleton had thanked the robot. 

How to use this to his advantage, indeed. 

Mettaton turned to where you lay, made snug with your chin beneath the covers and your expression displaying the up most level of comfort one could hope to reach whilst sleep. He hoped you were dreaming of him. Mettaton allowed a smile to twinge onto his lips as he leaned over, brushing a kiss against your content smile before pulling away slightly. No, he couldn't lose you. He hadn't expected Sans to ever get over his hurt, but while this wrench was chucked into his plans almost brutally, shredding through his confidence and tearing up his mind, Mettaton knew it would work out in the end. It had to. 

Resting his forehead against yours, Mettaton hovered over you, hands and knees on either side of you. You wouldn't be leaving him, no. It just wasn't possible. It just wasn't happening. He'd whisk you away if he had to, he'd chase Sans to the ends of the galaxy if it meant keeping that damned skeleton away from you. You were his, dammit. Sans had had his time, even if it was cut short, he still had it. It was Mettaton's time, and it would stay that way until his last breath, and long after yours. 

Mettaton began to place light kisses along your face, starting at your cheekbones and circling to your forehead, the other cheekbone, your chin, and back to the original place. He kept this up, even as your nose began to twitch from the feather soft affections.

"I love you," The words startled him as they spilled from his lips. Furrowing his brows, he placed another kiss to your lips, pulling away with another hushed, "I love you." He continued to trouble your skin with his kisses, not stopping until those three words had left his lips hundreds of times and your mouth was stained with bruises. It had taken many kisses to do that, him never pressing hard enough to wake you. 

He wished you had been awake to hear that first declaration of love, but he didn't want you to see him worrying about your future with him. About Sans. About the mess he had gotten everyone into. 

Shifting out from over your form, Mettaton laid in his usual spot beside you, back shoving against the silky covers. His hand reached beneath the sheets and he moved down so that he was under the same amount you were, hand reaching out to grab yours. "I love you," He repeated again, his voice barely a whisper. He didn't need sleep, indulging in it only because his original ghostly form had desired it often before he had merged with the body Alphys had given him, but right now his eyes were heavy and his breathing deep. 

What would he do? How could he stop you before you talked to Sans? How could he stop Sans from questioning his accusations against you from years previous? From what he remembered, Sans had associated Mettaton's coupling with you to be a way to assert himself. Mettaton remembered Sans laughing after a few months, jostling him by pressing his bony shoulder into Mettaton's metal one. He'd asked if Mettaton was keeping an eye on you to make sure you didn't do something drastic, like actually join that cult and try to hurt monsters. 

Mettaton had laughed with him then, but he was not laughing now. Sans had clearly moved beyond that, likely assuming that you were no longer the dark person Mettaton had painted you to be. 

He began to close his eyes after shuffling so that he was closer to you. Sans wouldn't hurt Toriel, that was a reassuring thought. As far as Mettaton knew, the two were close, very close. Their long awaited relationship was budding, and infatuation on both sides was thick and delicious. No, Sans would leave you be, Sans would let Mettaton keep you. So long as his deception was not revealed, everything would be fine. 

Mettaton squeezed your hand tightly before slipping into a deep sleep, pushing away the ominous feeling that his world was about to crash around him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;l


	10. Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***** is your name. ;l

You awoke to find hungry kisses thrust fervently onto your lips, and while you wouldn't have minded, the pressure coming from their almost desperate nature left you feeling suffocated. Your eyes flitted open, and you looked into pink suns. Mettaton's eyes shone so brightly that for a moment you wished he would revert back into his original robotic form, the sheer intensity of Mettaton Ex's eyes startling after having just woken up. 

Words began to chant from his lips whenever he was not kissing you, which wasn't very often. "You're not leaving me, *****," Your name sounded heavy coming from him, thick with need and burning with want. You tried to offer a small smile, but your bruising lips were stinging almost as much as your hip had been yesterday. "You're not-" You shut your eyes tightly as a forceful kiss was pressed upon your lips. He wasn't trying to be this hurtful, you knew. He needed confirmation, it was unnecessary because you wouldn't be leaving him anytime soon, if ever, but he still needed it. "--Leaving me-" He was able to get a few words between each kiss, something you were unable to do with how fast he was delivering them. "--*****!" 

You tried to turn your head to either side, but his hand came up to cup your cheek and move it back to the position that suited him best. You let out a short whine as the kisses became even more insistent after you had tried to pull away, his metal lips touching yours uncomfortably now. You brought your hands up to his chest and pushed, though not enough to hurt him. It didn't add any space between you to like you had desired, his hands coming up to entwine with yours and place them beside your head. 

Hands busy now, you were able to move your head to the side. "Mettaton!" You gasped, quickly finding out that during this intense display of affection you had only been able to get short bursts of air, "Mettaton, stop!" He didn't. His face nestled into the now exposed column of your neck, oddly wet tongue streaking to follow lines of kisses he left. You found it hard to speak, hard to even breathe, your body taken over by shivers of delight. You shoved against his hold, freeing your right hand and placing it on his chest, pushing. He came away from your skin long enough for you to yelp, "I'm _not_ leaving you, Mettaton!" 

Your shrieking voice sounded feminine, too feminine, but right now that was the last thing on your mind. You turned your head to look into those rose colored stars. The deep desire in them captivated you, his tongue gliding along the metal as he hissed, " _Mine_." 

He dove forward, face finding the still wet crook of your neck. His teeth dug into your skin as he suckled none-too-gently, clearly intending on making it clear to the world that you belonged to him. Your face burned, but you didn't resist. If his relief came in the form of wet tongues and bruised skin, so be it. Your right cheek was snug against the mattress, your head having moved out from above your pillows some time in your sleep, and you stared at the wall in front of you. 

The sound of wet skin and metal lips smacking sounded, only furthering your blush. Your shut your eyes tightly as his tongue dragged against skin, how was it even wet? Monsters, you concluded, not wanting to question it further. 

Mettaton dabbed kisses wherever he could, suckling on old marks and making new ones. By the time he had collapsed on his side, you were sure that the entire left side of your neck was darker than when you woke up. He had collapsed so that your head, still pressed into the thick mattress, was facing him. He looked positively dreadful, exhaustion creeping onto his features in a way that you didn't think possible for a robot. You shifted your position so that your entire body was towards him, the crick in your neck making its presence known immediately. 

"Mettaton, why would I ever leave you?" You offered a kind smile, grabbing his right hand in your left. He looked so consoled by both your action and your words, your smile became genuine. 

He looked troubled, the suns that were his eyes dimming until they were a faded pink. "Darling, please don't associate with that skeleton any further. Sans, Papyrus is an absolute dear whose friendship with you I support entirely," You narrowed your eyes at that. Mettaton had never dictated who you spent your time with, not that you would have allowed him if he tried. At your pause, the possessive gleam in his eyes returned, and he moved as though he was preparing to assault you with affection once more. 

You were faster, though. Your body moved as fluid as liquid as you positioned yourself to straddle his hips, sliding from beneath the covers as you went. You pressed down on him, letting him know that you were not above cheap tactics to keep him locked where he was. "I'm not going to abandon you for him, Mettaton. The chance of that was dead the day we broke up, the very second I found my belongings on the yard." His grimace intensified, body curling up to meet yours. "I just want to know why," 

" _Darling_." 

"I promise you, Mettaton," Your hands moved to his cheeks, brushing the smooth metal lightly. He leaned into your touch, pressing his head forward. "I just want to know why," 

He released a pitiful sound into the air, and you arched so that your face was as close to his while still keeping position over his hips. "Please, *****," 

The two of you talked until the sun began to peek over the horizon, the light filtering into your room from the open window across from the bed. You allowed it to wash into the room, trying to reassure your boyfriend the whole while. He did not settle, however, merely begging you to abandon all hope of building something akin to friendship with Sans. Mettaton had never barred you from doing anything before, and in fact, he had suggested the idea a year or two ago. It was clear now, though, that the suggestion had not been genuine. 

Still, you pressed on until he cut you off. With the room glowing a soft orange-yellow and the window letting in streams of cold air, he requested that you dance for him. You were puzzled at the strange request but he merely repeated it continuously till you obliged. Separating yourself from him, you moved in front of the foot of the bed. He tapped his chest a few times, index finger gliding across the expanse before stopping. A song you did not recognize filled the air, but the beat was easy to follow. 

"Elastic Heart" by Sia overtook his soft murmurs, and you began to mash ballet and hip hop to mirror the song. Your movements were jerky from being out of practice for so long, the last time you had danced for the sake of dancing was well before your impromptu breakup with the very skeleton Mettaton was keen on not allowing you to be near. Now you danced at balls and your movements were a practiced formality, it felt odd to jump out of it, if only for a song. 

"I love you, *****." Mettaton declared what you assumed to be halfway through the song. Your leg rose and your back arched but you slammed it down, breaking back into fluid hip hop. You didn't pause at his words, while it was the first time you had heard him say it, you had known it for some time. 

Your hip twanged uncomfortably, but you continued regardless. "I know," You whispered, feeling as though you were being too harsh. As your body rose and fell, you let out a bit louder, "I love you, too, Mettaton." 

You owned this song, you thought briefly. Your dance came out so easily, it was as though you had practiced to it many times before, instead of the reality that you hadn't even heard the tune until today. When it drew to a close, you found yourself wanting to hear the song Sans had spoken of yesterday, and you felt the burning desire to continue dancing. You knew if you asked Mettaton to play it, he would only become more distraught. 

Later, after Mettaton left for work, you decided. You would skip your workout to dance, as silly as it sounded. Your workout would be dancing, and you would find the tune of your skeleton song and you would move to it. The decision was intense and striking with how odd it was, but you needed to hear the song, and you would. You wouldn't dance exclusively to that song, but that would be the very first one once you exited this room to leave for your workout area. 

Mettaton was studying you as you lowered yourself back onto the bed beside him. You draped your arm around his middle, scooting so that you were pressed against him. Your smile was enthusiastic and charming, reaching your eyes heartily. You cuddled with him, face burying in his metal chest. You would get to your dancing later, but for now, you would stay with Mettaton. 

"I love you, _Mettaton_."


	11. Then

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Undyne POV
> 
> ***Four months after the breakup****

She'd searched for you for months after you had disappeared. No one could find you, and anyone who knew where you were hadn't appeared keen on speaking up anytime soon. You had dropped from the grid without a trace, and a third of a year had passed before she saw you again. 

From the moment Undyne laid eyes on you, her bones were set on edge and her gut was flaring with a feeling that didn't promise good things. You hadn't looked particularly off, you looked just like you always had before you went missing, perhaps a bit skinnier, but a smile was firm on your lips. It didn't reach your eyes, though. That wasn't the only thing that tipped her off to the fact that this trip away was anything but one for pleasure. 

She had spotted you first when she flicked on her television, Alphys having texted her a few minutes prior and instructing her to do so. She had flipped to the channel her girlfriend told her to go to, and there you were. You were dressed in a smart tux, pink stitching very clearly adorning the pockets instead of the traditional black. A similarly bright pink button up was tucked away beneath your coat, and a black tie placed over it. You had a charming smirk gracing your face, and in a way, it seemed almost fitting, considering your partner for the show. You sat, hand in hand with Mettaton Ex. 

Undyne knew that you and Sans had broken up, though the skeleton released no details. She also knew that Mettaton had dismissed himself from their large group of friends to dive back on tour, making a splash in the entertainment world once more, no doubt. It didn't take Undyne more than half of a heartbeat to see the connection. 

You were in front of dozens of cameras, on what appeared to be a famous television show, she couldn't tell. She was almost always busy doing something else, never having time to pay attention to any screens that weren't displaying anime. But she was paying attention now. 

From what she could gather, having turned on the station half an hour into the program, Mettaton was introducing you as a potential romance interest for his newest movie. He had cracked some kind of line, indicating that he would like it to not just be an act, as the host continued to reference it. Shoulders squared, Undyne leaned forward with her hands on her hips, hissing to the television and hoping to the stars above that that bucket of bolts could hear her, "You _snake_ ," 

Her anger was righteous, and her fury was only intensifying with every moment she stared at the screen. Mettaton's face held a bright smile, his features portraying faux hope as he looked at you with more affection than Sans ever had. Undyne could tell it was false, no one loved you more than Sans had. She'd never seen it, at least, and the brute in front of those cameras wasn't capable of loving anything that wasn't himself, anyway. 

She had tried, for Alphys' sake, to play nice. It had even worked for a while, so long as Undyne pretended to be as in love with Mettaton as she was with Alphys. It had been grueling work, and when Mettaton's personality had demanded more, she stopped putting forth the effort. That damned talking calculator was manipulative, and it made her uneasy to see the two of you so close on television. She knew that he had something to do with the breakup, what though, she wasn't sure.

Bringing her index and middle fingers to her eyes, Undyne waited until the screen displayed a closeup of Mettaton's face, jerking her accusing fingers towards him in an "I'm watching you" motion before plunking the digits against his eyes. She wished she could do it in person, though she knew it wouldn't hurt him. She was almost blind with fury, it was only fair that he would be made sightless, as well. 

Undyne wanted to slash at the television before her, dig her claws and spears into that robot until he was nothing but scrap metal. "What did you _do_ , Mettaton," Her nose twitched with an oncoming snarl that flashed over her features like lightning an instant later. Her left hand rose into the air, suspended high above her head with the intent to strike out at the television, but it would solve nothing. "What did _you_ do, _Mettaton_." 

If the actor heard her, he didn't indicate it. The lack of "LIVE" on the lower right screen told Undyne that this program wasn't playing out currently, and she grinned in satisfaction at the idea that the bucket of bolts might actually be flinching right now. She knew that Mettaton did something, she could sense that he had a bigger part in your breakup with Sans than anyone else knew. And she was going to find out what it was. 

Her phone vibrated from where she had tossed it, and Undyne reached over, eyes not leaving the screen, as she picked it up. 

**-Do you see *****?- Animybabe 11:09**

Hell yeah, she saw you. She also saw that disgusting pile of trash who currently sat with his hands entwined in yours. After sending a quick reply, Undyne threw the phone over her left shoulder, marching back over to the television. She stood with her face so close, static frizzed her hair and her eyes burned from the light. Her tongue drooled over her bottom set of teeth and lower lip as she flicked it threateningly at Mettaton once he flashed back onscreen. He was laughing at something you had said, and that made her even angrier. 

Rising to a standing position, Undyne drew her tongue back into its home and wiped a sleeve over her lips. "I don't know what you did, you literal trash bag, but I'm going to find out." Unfortunately for Mettaton, Undyne was determined, and dangerously so. "And when I do?" Her arm reared back well behind her, fist almost aligned with her shoulder. With a snap, she launched it forward, smashing her closed fist through the wall next to the television. "You'd better be ready for it." 

Mettaton was a manipulative asshole, and Undyne could see that he had orchestrated everything involving you for the last few months. Why, she hadn't a clue. What, she wasn't sure. When, she didn't even know where it started. Where, she didn't know that either. But she knew who he was messing with, even if Mettaton himself didn't know. 

Sharp teeth revealed themselves as the fishy hothead removed her fist from the plaster, white dust coating her scales and brushing into her flesh. 

She turned away from the screen, leaving it on after seeing a closeup of you, and began to march away from it. She didn't care if she had to wait a long time to find out what had happened, maybe it would even bring you and her closer in the end, but she would find out. She would. And she would beat that damned calculator into bits and pieces when she did. Undyne didn't care if he was the best actor of all time, which he wasn't, she would get him to spill his involvement in the breakup to her. 

Undyne stalked to her front door, throwing it open and jumping outside. For now, her knowledge would be kept to herself. It was obvious that no one else had made the connection, and until she had evidence, she would keep it that way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Animybabe: A mix between "anime" and "my babe"; what Alphys is saved under in Undyne's contacts


	12. Then

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mettaton POV  
> ****Six months before the breakup****

Mettaton waited with bated breath as he stared at his ratings. They weren't rising, not even slightly. The stagnant numbers, although large, stood as proof to his elegant failures on the surface. Sure, a vast majority of the earth was infatuated with him, but it didn't matter.

Not when another being had better ratings. Not when another being had more fans, more roles, more everything than he had. Glancing to the screen on his right, Mettaton could only watch with undisguised dread as the other being's ratings rose continuously, numbers slapping on the screen rapidly. Anger disturbed Mettaton's usually joyful expression, slipping in the form of furrowed brows and twisted lips. Sans didn't even want the attention! 

But still, the numbers rose. Still, Sans' worth continued to rise above his own. More numbers, more worth, and _more fans_. You're being ridiculous, Mettaton chided himself harshly. His ratings were close behind Sans', and for a monster whose debut had only just happened that day versus a monster whose been charting for years now, that wasn't bad. And besides, the program had just ended, and anyone who hadn't already seen it would have to wait until the rerun to see him again.

But Mettaton was worth so much more than a rerun. He'd worked hard the last couple of years to ensure that his first moment on screen would be as magnificent, if not more so, than his last performance in the Underground. And it had been. Doubly so, in fact. His first performance had been so alluring that despite it being only a national event, it was streamed all over the world. 

A flicker of movement on his left, and his ratings rose one. The screen he had trained on Sans' ratings was still a flurry of motion, however, and it was frustrating. Why did he have so many admirers? He was a lazy skeleton who someone had to poke with a stick if they wanted him to do anything. He was fat, a slob, messy, disgusting, and completely out of Mettaton's league in term of ratings. It was disturbing, it was harsh, it was cruel, and it was unfair. 

"Mettaton?" Alphys called out from several rooms over, and he straightened instantly. He had left his group of friends to check on this one-sided competition, and he supposed he had been gone for a while, now. "Wh-where are you?" It had been terribly rude of him to just abandon them, hadn't it? 

He didn't respond to Alphys, not wanting to lead her into this room. With a final glance at the offending screens, his numbers had spiked by a few hundred but were still a few dozen behind Sans', he wandered out. The door shut behind him silently, but his footsteps were not so quiet. They thudded loudly, despite his best efforts to walk softly. His grimace melted into a vivacious smile, though, once he rounded the corner and entered the room where all of his friends were settled. 

"My apologies!" Mettaton gasped dramatically, putting a show on for those ever present imaginary cameras that were always poised on his person. With an elegant flick of the wrist, Mettaton strutted into the room, his eyes dark with satisfaction as he noticed that almost every set of eyes was currently on him. Almost wasn't good enough, though. 

Alphys was grinning up at him, Undyne was scowling but staring nonetheless, Napstablook was watching him, all of the Temmie's were bouncing up at the sight of him, Burgerpants was carrying a frown, but similar to Undyne, he was still looking. Every monster and human in the room from Toriel to Papyrus to Frisk, even Sans was eyeing him with a variety of emotions that skewed from annoyance to pure excitement. It was enthralling, it was invigorating, it was thrilling, but it was not enough. 

Mettaton swiveled to face Sans, the man in his arms being the only one who did not train their attention on him. Mettaton's grin faltered as he saw that you were too busy nuzzling Sans to ever look at him, and Sans looked ready to turn away from Mettaton, too. 

He stared long and hard at you, not minding anyone else in the room as they shifted awkwardly. He waited until Sans nudged you and you turned your focus from the skeleton to the robot who rightfully deserved your love and affection as much as Sans did, if not more so. 

The idea struck him harder than any ever had before. You were Sans' biggest fan. A coy smile tilted the corner of his lips skywards as he connived, an idea hatching even as he walked to one of the large screens on the other side of the room and addressed the semi-large crowd that had gathered in his home. "How did you all like my performance?" His performance was the furthest thing from his mind. "I'd say I did _very_ well." 

Toriel chimed in that he had done extraordinary, and Alphys had expressed her pride in what would be an alluring speech absent of her usual uncertain stutters, but Mettaton wasn't focused on any of this, as he should have been. 

You were Sans' biggest fan, but like Sans had stolen his rightful place as the top grossing monster, he would steal you. 

Mettaton hoped those invisible cameras were not picking up on his inner monologue. He was not against taking up the role of the villain, he played that part quite well actually, but if he was honest with himself, which he almost never was, the motive for this next big performance was petty. Pettiness never won over an audience, no matter how imaginary it may be. 

"You did really well, Mettaton!" Mettaton smiled at you as you spoke up. "I was really impressed! I still am! Great job!" 

Tilting his head back dramatically, Mettaton placed a hand over his chest, fingers extended, "Oh, of course you are, darling! I would only deliver the best for my debut," He took his hand away and bowed slightly, pointing a finger at you, "But be prepared to be even more captivated by me, darling, I'm only going to get better!" 

He straightened his back after sending a wink in your direction, turning away from you and Sans to survey the rest of the crowd, drowning in compliments detailing his success. He lived for the spotlight, he breathed for the admiration of others, he became corporeal to experience stardom in its most beautiful form. Anger depleted his sudden giddiness as he realized with an abrupt metaphorical slap that he lived to be at the top, and he was currently sitting in second. He may as well have been back at the bottom. 

From his peripheral vision, he saw you snuggle a bit closer to Sans, your left cheek resting against his shoulder and your hand fiddled with his. Yes, he would take you from Sans. He would get vengeance for his failed ratings, for his failed attempt at being beautiful. He would spent months, if necessary, on you until you were fully and wholeheartedly his. What he would do with you next, he wasn't sure. Perhaps dump you on the side, maybe keep you for appearances if his fans favored you, it didn't matter.

So long as he wiped that stupid grin off of that skeleton's face. 

Mettaton continued to gush about his most recent accomplishment, the image on the TV bleeding to one of his face as the channel began to start the program over. The others showered him with congratulations, yourself and Sans included, as the performance ran through a second time. And then a third, and then a fourth, the channel loved him and his acting apparently, but by the time the fifth had rolled around, everyone had returned home. It was late, nearing midnight, and most of of his friends had work in the morning. Mettaton saw them out with hardly a wave after walking them to the door, his attention was on you, though not obvious enough to be picked up by anyone. 

Over the course of the night, he had learned your name, some of your hobbies, and that was about it. It wouldn't be enough to pursue you enough to have you fall for him as hard as he wanted you to, but he could fix that. He could infiltrate your circle, become a close friend, and force something _unfortunate_ to happen, one that would make you no longer love Sans as much as you did. In his head, the situation would pan out perfectly, a well orchestrated series of events that would have you vying for his affection. In his mind, he would play hard to get, but would steal you away and watch from a distance as Sans cracked.

He didn't care if his motives were petty, he was going to get payback for the injustice dealt to him by those screens. "This robot," Mettaton assured himself, his voice sounding loud in the quiet home, "Is going to get vengeance." His fingers ran over smooth metal, and rather smugly, he tacked on another sentence, more for dramatic effect than anything else. "Revenge is a dish best served metallic," It didn't fit what he was saying, and he had no doubt that his imaginary viewers were raising eyebrows at that, but he knew that they were clinging to his every word regardless.

His footsteps fell like thunder as he stalked through his home towards the room he had hidden himself in before. Pushing the door open, Mettaton wandered over to the screens and flicked them both on. His cold eyes scanned them, watching with visible happiness as he saw his ratings rise to Sans' level before streaking over. The reruns had worked, and by the next performance, Mettaton knew he'd have the world beneath his thumb. 

He could cancel the act he had been planning all night, Mettaton thought to himself. But what would be the point of that? It hadn't even started, and Mettaton was still dead set on getting his revenge. His reasons were fickle and dumb, even more so now that his ratings dominated Sans', but he didn't care. Those invisible viewers already had their stations turned to the program, and he couldn't disappoint. 

With a careful and mischievous smirk sent in the direction he imagined the cameras would be, Mettaton shut down the computers and sashayed out of the room, his devious smile only furthering as he thought about what Sans would look like. That skeletal monster had been infuriating Underground, but Mettaton's muted hatred for him only grew after all of the monsters spilled onto the surface and it was Sans, not him, who was plucked up by the media. Toriel and Asgore's immediate popularity was a shoo-in, but for Sans to be selected? It was blasphemous. 

But he was going to get payback. He was going to make Sans pay for the unfairness thrown at Mettaton, and he was going to make that skeleton _hurt_. 

Mettaton stormed up the stairs towards his study, he didn't need sleep and it was best to prepare for his next performance immediately.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need to slow down, holy cow


	13. Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Undyne POV

Over three years of patience and silent but persistent investigation and you finally gave Undyne a bit more to go off of. 

"I just wish I knew why," You sighed. The two of you were sprawled out, the Sunday lazily passing you two bye as the time ticked from afternoon to evening. You both had wasted the day dancing after you called her up and asked her to come over, and while it wasn't her ideal workout, it had been tiring and it had been fun. She'd twirled and bobbed and lead you in dance, and had been lead by you in dance. It was a crazy amount of wicked fun starting from early this morning and draining to now. 

The sun painted the room in natural light, bathing you both in orange and red as the sun descended below the horizon. Undyne had suggested a break after your skin had become too gross to touch, your clothes laden with sweat and you had jumped at the idea. Undyne laid next to you for what couldn't have been more than ten minutes, your heavy breath being the only sound in the room, when you spoke up. 

Undyne shifted so that her arm supported her head, elbow digging into the plush carpet, and she faced you. "Why what?" 

Your face morphed into that of a pained expression, and Undyne started to take back her question, when your voice cracked into the air again, "Why did he throw me out like that?" No further questions were necessary. Undyne cocked her head slightly to the side, you didn't know? Her hand fell from beneath her head, pushing her up to a seated position. You didn't know. 

Had Sans' sudden declaration of friendship yesterday spurred this question? Whatever it had been, Undyne was glad for it. She could already feel her knuckles digging into that dumb calculator once she unveiled the whole truth. 

Leaning closer to you, elbows resting on her knees after she had crossed her legs, she supported her head with both hands. She didn't need to feign surprise for her next question, it coming naturally as the emotion was real, "You don't know?" You shook your head. "You never asked?" You stayed where you were, your position imitating that of a star as you lied with your arms and legs extended. You made no move to face Undyne, your gaze still trained on the ceiling high above the both of you, but your teeth began to worry at your bottom lip. 

Undyne was concerned that she had pried all that she could, although your statement hadn't exactly been forced from you, and was settling to lay back down in a position similar to yours when you answered her question. "What time did I have to ask? I'd only arrived home seven months after the day he had broken up with me, and by then, it was too late. What time did I have?" Her heart ached for you, hurt dripping from your voice and tears threatening to leak from your eyes. 

You were confused, she could tell that much. Hurt, yeah, she could see that, too. It looked as though the weight of Sans' betrayal was crushing down upon your chest, and while you were fighting back tears, the eyes were the windows to the soul, and yours was broken. Undyne could see that, too. 

"I love Mettaton, I should be content with how things played out. Sans is happy, Mettaton is happy, you're happy, Alphys is happy, everyone is happy." Now that you had started, you didn't appear keen on stopping. Not that Undyne minded. "So why am I not?" You turned your head in her direction, the movement causing your tears to start their descent down your face and onto the floor. She was immediately filled with the need to rectify your pain, but she waited. Your voice choked out, cracking to a higher pitch briefly before going back to its low tone, "Why am I-, ah, why?" 

Your chest heaved as the dam broke loose, and Undyne could wait no longer. She flung herself by your side, gathering her best friend into her arms and hugging tightly. Your arms wrapped around her as you buried your face into her tank top, fingers bundling the fabric in their grasp. She did not hush you, did not offer any comforting words because she knew that she had to hear what came next. She needed to understand what happened next. 

"Do-don't get me wrong, gah, please don't. I _am_ happy, with Mettaton. I am. I am." Your chanting sounded as though it was more to reassure yourself than her. "I love him, Undyne, I..I do. But then.." You trailed off, and she began to run her hands down your back to alleviate the shaking that had wrapped around your body. You were trembling terribly, and she was concerned, but she didn't do anything more than hug and pat you. " _Why?_ " Your sob came out so intense, Undyne could feel the pain piercing through her as if she had been speared. " _Why?_ What did I _do_?" 

Nothing, Undyne wanted to say. She wanted to tell you that you did nothing wrong, that it was that _damned calculator_ , but she had no evidence of that yet. 

Your body shuddered in her grasp, and Undyne was fighting back tears of her own. "I was going t-to ask him, ah, ask him yesterday." You pulled away, your arm rubbing against your blotchy face to wipe away the tears. "W-was I not g.. _good_ enough, Undyne?" Undyne let out a yelp, drawing you back to her chest and holding you there. She couldn't tell you that it was Mettaton who had pulled the strings, she didn't know that for sure yet, but she could erase that false idea. 

Her words pressed from her lips before she could stop them, as if she wanted to. "*****, you are worth so much more than you know. Good enough? Punk, you were _more_ than good enough. You still are." Praises spurted from her throat and into your ears, and she could feel your trembling lessen slightly, but she wasn't done. She paid you compliment after compliment, reassurance after reassurance, pounding her love for you into sentences that would never be able to hold the full extent of how much she loved you. You were her best friend, and while her motive for hanging out with you had been to right Mettaton's wrong initially, she couldn't stand to hear the pain in your voice, and would do anything to erase it forever. Its very existence troubled her as much as the prospect of Mettaton playing puppet master in anyone's life, and she couldn't handle it. 

You cried in her arms, feeling very fem-human. You had been taught what was feminine and what was masculine for the entirety of your life, and you were sick of letting it orchestrate how you acted. You were human, and regardless of your gender, you cried. You felt pain and you liked to dance and you laughed and you were human. You pressed deeper into Undyne's shirt, soaking it. 

The two of you sat like that until you could cry no more and her already scratchy voice was hoarse with use. Even after you had finished, you stayed in that position. The sun had long since dipped below the horizon, and the room was a house for shadows. "I want to know why," You managed, your voice rough with dread. You took a deep breath, "I want to know why." 

"Then ask, punk," Undyne murmured affectionately, her right cheek resting atop your head. Talking felt weird when she was pressed against you like that, more specifically when her face was firm against your skull, but she wasn't moving anytime soon. 

"I can't," 

Undyne wanted to pull away and shake your shoulders until the motion knocked some sense into you. She refrained, barely. "Why not?" 

"Mettaton doesn't want me to." 

She froze at that, blood beginning to boil in her veins and magic burning her fingertips. "That's too bad for him, then." 

"He loves me, I can't just do that to him," 

Her brows furrowed at that. "Love doesn't mean control, *****." Hah, fitting considering who they were talking about. 

You paused at that, and Undyne was about to remind you of that fact again, when your voice sounded weakly, muffled against her clothes. "He's afraid I'll leave him for Sans." Undyne's shoulders stiffened slightly. So, the old bucket of bolts was falling into desperation to cover his tracks? 

Pathetic. Mettaton is pathetic. He knew that you had a heart bigger than this entire house, bigger than anyone could ever hope to imagine, and he was manipulating it. Using fear to keep you grounded like a child. While she wouldn't have put it passed him, the lengths he would go to to keep this charade up, for whatever reason, still shocked her. 

Her magic sparked at her fingertips, though not tangible enough to harm you. It yearned to be unleashed, to wreak havoc upon that stupid robot with slashes and tears and rips so unforgiving, Alphys would have no chance of being able to rebuild him when she was finished. If she'd even want to. Once she found out what that robot had done to trip up your relationship with Sans, she was going to float that information like it was hers to spread. 

"But..I, ah, I wouldn't." You must have felt uncomfortable at her silence, Undyne realized. She had been lost in thought for at least a minute, probably more. "I love Mettaton, and Sans has Toriel, anyway." 

Undyne smirked at that, she had more cards up her sleeve than a Madjick. Toriel, her favorite and only Queen, the only other person to have similar suspicions about Mettaton's involvement in Sans' breakup with you. Toriel had promised Undyne that would tell her if Sans spilled anything about that event, or about Mettaton, and while it hadn't happened yet, it was bound to happen soon. If you hadn't a clue as to why Sans rejected you so horribly, then there was only two people who did, and Undyne doubted Mettaton would be speaking up about it anytime soon. 

She hummed against your skull, thoughts filled of undercover goat moms and deceiving calculators, almost forgetting to respond to you. She could sense your apprehension at continuing with this topic, it coiled within you and tensed your muscles, and so she settled on distracting you while she worked on her thoughts. "That was one helluva break, punk. Ready to dance again?" 

Your shoulders slumped in relief and the two of you separated, legs stretching as as you both rose. Undyne took your hand in hers after turning YouTube back on and clicking on a random song in the already selected playlist. She smiled at the choice, and you began to put distance in between yourself and Undyne, the beat calling for hip hop and crazy bumps and jumps, not hand holding and twirling. "Fighter" by Christina Aguilera couldn't have been any more fitting, smearing away the somber atmosphere and replacing it with a totally cool one. 

Hips shaking, arms flailing, head bobbing, wrists flicking, feet pounding, and both bodies in full motion, the two of you danced, joining occasionally for brief moments before breaking away to opposite corners. Her legs burned and her feet were sore, but Undyne pressed on, determined to appear as normal as you did. Should you look over at her, she was sure she would look as wild and crazy as you, and not at all like she was warped in vicious anger and lost in thought. 

She'd have to inform Toriel about what she had found out, but she doubted the anthropomorphic goat would be very happy at the news. She'd grown close to the skeleton over the years, and had even started going out with him last year. Even more than that, she knew Toriel would be furious when Undyne revealed that you had cried because of some brat's deception. Maybe she would be upset at the idea that Mettaton believed that just by becoming friends with Sans would be enough to force both pairs apart and rejoin the one from three years prior. The plan didn't involve breaking them up, though. Just righting the wrong that was Mettaton. 

Mettaton, the name rang like a curse in her mind. Arrogant, haughty, disgusting, and soon to be a prey to his own hubris. Her body jigged to the song as it drew to a close, but she wasn't done thinking, so she swiftly turned to the next song. It didn't even register in her mind, she was too busy thinking to actually hear it, so she just allowed her body to move on its own, confident that it looked right to the outside observer. 

Undyne's gaze flickered over to where you were, her anger only flaring up even more. While you looked happier now, your earlier sadness still rubbed at her, and knowing that the cause of it was the very event she was dead set on investigating made her mad. No one, aside from Sans and Mettaton, knew what had been the catalyst for the sudden breakup. Undyne's feet pounded a bit more forcibly than necessary, her anger slipping onto her features before being shoved back. 

She would stop Mettaton before he did more damage, of that she was certain. She wouldn't allow him to cause any more pain or confusion, and she definitely wasn't going to let him manipulate her best friend any further. With a snap, Undyne's arms extended before shucking over her head, her fingertips touching before darting back in front of her as she began to twirl, a feat made harder due to the carpeted flooring, but she made it work. 

What gave that oversized computer the right to meddle in anyone's business, anyway? He had already achieved stardom, and was the most famous being on the planet currently. What more did he have to gain by tearing up a relationship that affected him in no way? That dumb toaster, he couldn't even be of use, his soul was too cold to heat up anything anyway. 

Speaking of useless and dumb toasters, "Darling?" Undyne watched with undisguised hatred as Mettaton peeked his head into the room, ignoring her completely as he laid his eyes on you. Undyne resisted the urge to slam the door on his throat, no, that would be too quick, she told herself. You stopped dancing to smile at your boyfriend, closing the distance between you two and pressing a disgustingly sweet kiss on his lips before asking him what he wanted. Undyne would have gagged if she wasn't prone to similar acts of public display with Alphys. "Dinner is ready," Mettaton chirped, nuzzling you before pulling away. 

He looked positively awestruck, a scoundrel in love. Oh, by the stars above, Undyne hoped that he really was in love with you. It would make it all the more satisfying when she finally freed you from his manipulative grasp. The plan may not have involved separating Toriel and Sans, but she'd be damned if you weren't miles away from Mettaton emotionally by the end of it. 

You turned towards Undyne, a sheepish and apologetic smile on your lips. She squinted her eyes at you, noticing for the first time how the left side of your neck was dusted with bruises, your sweat having caused the concealer to run off. Her nose twitched with the urge to snarl, and her legs ached with the need to charge at that stupid calculator, not caring what the marks were. There were bruises on your neck, and her vision was red.

She suppressed her anger until after you had showed her out, a sleepy smile gracing your lips as you shut the door, and the last thing Undyne saw of you was Mettaton wrapping his metallic arms around you. Once out of the house, she began to gag.

Marching over to her car angrily, Undyne shoved herself in and started it. She peeled out of the driveway and darted down the roads until she had pulled into her on driveway, and she was out of her car quickly. Fingers pressing on dials with enough force to put hairline cracks on the screen, she slammed the phone to her right fin and waited. A beautiful voice lulled from the other side, but she wasn't calmed down. Her anger seeped into her voice, and Undyne didn't care how loud she was, "Hey, Tori? I got some news."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Undyne for best friend 2k16


	14. Now

You could feel his hold on you tightening, metaphorically, of course. The two of you were currently seated across from one another, a large table that seemed to stretch out for miles set the gap for you. You could feel his heavy gaze, unwavering even as food was placed on the table before the both of you. You met his stare meekly, your mind whirring with thoughts chalked full of trepidation. Had you done something wrong? 

No, he must be thinking about this morning. You nearly slapped a hand to your throat at the thought of the events that took place hours prior, but resisted. You hadn't done anything wrong, you'd spent the entire day with Undyne but that was pretty much it. You hadn't seen or talked to Sans since yesterday, and while you may have talked about your feelings with your friend, Mettaton could have had no knowledge of that. 

A smile turned the corners of his lips elegantly, but his eyebrows still twitched with muted..Something. It couldn't have been anger. Fear, maybe? You shuddered at the though, and hoped it was after performance nerves. Mettaton was a wizard on stage, so your mind told you that that wasn't even a remote possibility, but you pushed it back. 

Hands reaching for the fork and knife in front of you, you began to dig into your food. Mettaton cupped a wine glass in his left hand, sloshing the liquid as he flicked his wrist lightly. He wouldn't drink it, obviously, but it gave him something to focus on that wasn't you. Not that he was removing his attention from you. You shoved a bit of something, it had a name much too long for you to remember, into your mouth and chewed slowly. Mettaton was studying you so intensely, you humored the thought that maybe he was just riveted with how you looked currently, what with your clothes sticking to your skin and tufts of hair that needed to be shaved sticking in odd places. 

You wished there was a clock in the dining room, it would have added sound to the uncomfortable silence. 

"*****," You started, looking up from your meal immediately. Mettaton's eyes were fierce with smoky determination, his teeth mashing together as he shut his mouth. You smiled, pushing your plate away from you as you waited for him to speak up again. He opened his mouth to start another sentence before letting it trail off, another one bubbling in its wake, "Wha-..How was your day?" 

The air stilled, and you picked up on the fact that he was hiding something from you. The realization hurt as it dawned, your thoughts only picking up in pace as one slammed into the other, crunching before crashing into bits as a new one came. You were silent for a moment, hesitation, but finally, "Fine. How was yours?" 

Your curt dismissal was evident on your features. Dating an actor didn't make one an actor themselves, and while you were good at disguising your emotions, you weren't up to it tonight. You were tired and weary and wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed with your boyfriend and sleep for the next eternity. Maybe two. 

Mettaton didn't answer your question, and the both of you were shrouded in silence for the remainder of the meal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have like nine chapters started  
> But I always lose inspiration before I can finish them  
> Uh


	15. Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Metatton POV

He was becoming greedy, and the cameras ate it up. His selfishness first came in the form of less enthusiastic bursts and a distinct lack of unnecessary theatrics, but it quickly delved into sudden spouts silence and loss of focus, whether he was in front of a camera or not. When asked about it, Mettaton would simply reply with your name, his voice always far and wistful at the mention of you. The media painted him to be a devoted boyfriend, which he was, and that either a storm was brewing on the horizon for the fantastic star, or a new beginning was going to blaze through the relationship like a wildfire. Oh, he hoped it was the latter.

It's been a month since you met up with Sans again, that tragic Saturday captivating his mind like nothing else. The Sunday after, he had to go through the house and clean up documents left behind from his betrayal, bags somehow dusting below his eyes as he worried that you would find them. He had abandoned the computer room a long time before that Sunday, he had no need to check his ratings against Sans', or anyone else for that matter, and in his haste to clean up after himself he crashed into the room and destroyed the screens and everything that went with them. You had questioned why his metal was scraped and his fingers rough with gouges, but he blamed it on a fall and buffed them out the next morning. 

His mind was spinning uncontrollably by the fourth week. He canceled many of his interviews and plans, ratings dropping slightly in the process but only flaring back up when the media reminded the public of the reason. He spent as often as he could by your side, even going as far as to workout with you, if only to make sure that damned skeleton didn't make an appearance. 

But of course he did. 

Sans came by every Saturday, though Mettaton had insisted each time that he could take care of grading the competition. Mettaton's fondness for you only grew as the thoughts of losing you became miniature realities every time Sans showed up. He saw you lean towards the skeleton, he heard you begin to ask questions despite his pleas not to, and he always, _always_ stopped it before any question could ever be finished, let alone answered.

It didn't help that Undyne was goading you on, did she have a personal vendetta against him? The fish-like woman was constantly encouraging you to continue, to press on despite his warnings. He wasn't the controlling type, but he was possessive of what was his, and when he searched through your phone for messages from Sans, which he thankfully didn't find, he found proof of Undyne trying to get you to go against him. It was disgusting, what right did she have to meddle in his relationship? 

The entire world was watching him, now, waiting for word of a status change. Most were cheering for marriage, some hoping for broken hearts, but no one correctly guessed what was going on. Mettaton's producers had suggested that he drop you, his acting having been greatly affected by recent events. He fired them all until only the ones who supported him fully were left. 

Mettaton stood in the doorway, thoughts racing as his eyes scanned over your sleeping form. The light shining from his pupils washed away some of the darkness, and should you have woken up to stare at him, you would have been made afraid by his figure. He stood as though bracing for an attack, shoulders hunched and fingers twitching as he fought to keep himself under control, his eyes were laser-like in their intensity and illuminated the room with a furious pink glow. His wrists were raised slightly at his sides, prepared to strike should anything that wasn't you so much as make a sound, and his lips were straining with the force of his scowl. His brows were furrowed in frustration, and his nose was scrunched. Should you decide to open your eyes now, he would look every bit like the villain he was. 

But you didn't. Your chest rose and fell in deep, even breaths, and you did not startle at his appearance. Mettaton whipped around and exited his bedroom, heels digging into the carpet as he darted away. He allowed his body to move on its own as he drowned in his thoughts. 

He was going to lose you. You would never tire of him so long as Sans kept his distance, but that wasn't happening, and you were going to leave him. No, Mettaton growled inwardly, you weren't. He wasn't going to allow that. You were going to stay right where you were, by his side, and if he had to uproot his life and move to the other ends of the Earth, he would. He'd do anything to keep you away from Sans. He'd do anything to keep you. 

He made a sharp right, disappearing into another long hallway. This mansion is too big, he silently commented. Not big enough to keep you by his side, though. 

Mettaton wandered through the long corridors until he stopped at the room he had previously destroyed. Shoving his way in, Mettaton clomped his heels to the ground, the door closing with a fastened click. He stormed to the far corner on his left, fingers tearing into the wall as he searched for the latch. His fingers caught on something, a divot in the wall, and he dug in and yanked it open. 

The door to the control panel smacked against the wall, and Mettaton's hands dove into the mess of wires and machinery. His fingers mashed against the various buttons and tilted exposed metal with practiced ease, pulling away only when the sound of metal grinding against metal filled the air. A small patch of the floor screeched and he turned to see the door slide open, the impromptu crawlspace that was added as a last minute protection when the home was built now being used to cover his tracks. With a flick of his wrist, the control panel door slammed back into place, becoming almost invisible to the untrained eye once more, and Mettaton sauntered over to the hole. 

Wrenching his hands in the dark space, Mettaton crumpled the papers inside and ripped them out, his eyes scanning over the documents before shoving his hand back in. Proof after proof of his deception was again revealed to the world from his new hiding place. He dug deep enough that the space was empty save for a few scattered leaflets detailing what would soon be his next biggest performance. He pulled them out. 

Leaflets were absolutely absurd to use for housing his plans and outlines, but he was nothing if not dramatic and his actions were unnecessary to portray that fact. Flipping through the miniature booklets, he found the codes he had been working on for the past couple of days, the screenshots reflecting off of the unnatural light of his eyes. Narrowing them, Mettaton read over the lines again and again until he sat back, no longer hovering over the papers in an uncomfortable squat. 

Sweeping the other papers and folders back into their new home haphazardly, Mettaton stood, leaflets clutched to his chest, and wandered back to the wall. He pulled at the cracks until he found the control panel again, going through the motions needed to close the space up. Only after the door was shut firmly did he finally turn away and start to exit the room, new ideas and plans forming in his mind. 

You weren't leaving him. He wouldn't allow it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a week since IWAP ended, I have a big Psych midterm in a few days, and I still have no self control <3!! For those who are wondering, there is a new IWAP story, and for those who are concerned, I'm going to do fabulously on my midterm <3 <3 <3
> 
> Thank you all for reading and thank you to the people who are leaving such lovely comments! <3!!!


	16. Then

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mettaton POV
> 
> ****One year and three months after the breakup****

Looking up at the night sky, Mettaton scowled at what he believed to be his brethren. How could the stars ever hope to compete with him? They couldn't even come down to Earth, couldn't ever wow their admirers up close. They were merely orbs in the sky that happened to fall into line and create patterns, it was no wonder he was better than they could ever wish to be. 

Something shifted to his right, and Mettaton turned his head to look at it. His cheek pressed into the dingy dirt, only furthering his frown, and he glared at you. You were too busy to notice his cold gaze, your arm lifting as you pointed to the heavens. "Aren't they beautiful?" You breathed excitedly, and Mettaton turned his stare to where you were pointing. Your fingers traced the air to follow a constellation he never bothered to learn, though your giddiness was only growing. 

Mettaton could only just hide his irritation, "Don't you see these things every night? What makes them beautiful tonight? Or ever?" 

You turned your face so that you could rest your eyes upon him, mistaking his anger for jealousy. "I see you every day, and that doesn't make you any less beautiful." What a charm, Mettaton thought to himself. 

He stayed silent, as if he was pondering your words. He wasn't. Your smile widened and you turned back to the sky, your arm lowering back down to lay by your side. Mettaton wondered why he even put up with you. You were annoyingly affectionate whenever he bothered to pay you any attention, and you held a downcast expression when he didn't. You assisted him in public appearances simply for the fact that you were transgender, something that rocked the media world for some weird reason. He should have just dumped you last night, last month, some short time after he had asked you to be his. He'd already seen Sans' shocked face as you two became "Official" on the year anniversary of your relationship with Sans ending, and that was all he ever really wanted to see.

Honestly, you were useless to him, now. You were a ratings boost that was getting old. He needed someone new to work with, someone who actually interested him. 

Mettaton let out a curt sigh, his lips parting to make way for the sudden burst of air. The fan within him churned briefly as he forced it to supply the air needed to sigh, but settled soon after. Your hand rose to his field of view again as you outlined star after star, and Mettaton nearly snapped at you to quit it. That wouldn't do, though. The two of you were overseas for an extensive interview set for tomorrow, and besides, if you were to break up with him the media would go crazy. No, he was going to be the one to end it, and it would be on his terms and his terms only. 

His eyelids cast the world in darkness as he shut them, humming lightly to himself. While he was wasting his time out here with you, he could prepare for his next single. It would be productive, and take his mind off of the annoying blob of human flesh and bone laying beside him. You let out a small sigh of your own, though yours sounded much happier than his had, and you dug your back into the ground a bit more. "I don't see these stars at home, anyway," 

Mettaton opened an eye to stare at the nuisance beside his beautiful self, left leg sliding up and right crossing over it once it was in a comfortable position for him. Your smile would have been contagious for anyone who looked at it, if they didn't find you so irritating. Your eyes were shining with a passion that mirrored his own for acting, though, and that caught his attention quickly.

You inhaled the crisp Spring air, exhaling with the words, "Stars are different in different parts of the world," Your fingers dug into the dirt slightly, and Mettaton made a note to himself to not allow you to touch him until you washed up, as you propped yourself up. Both arms extended behind you, you stared up at the sky, not adoring your companion like you should have been. "There's a lot more light pollution here than at home, but I can still see the stars, and they're different," Why you bothered continuing on this topic, Mettaton didn't know. Couldn't you have just stayed quiet? You were much more pleasant, though not by much, when your mouth was closed and no sound escaped your throat. You turned away from the stars to regard him, the pure admiration in your gaze raining down upon him like stardust. 

Mettaton was suddenly very intrigued about what you had to say next. So long as you kept staring at him like that, of course.

The smile already curled on your lips only warmed further for the robot, "But I don't know why I spend so much time looking at the heavens. I already have a piece right here next to me," Mettaton's nose wrinkled at that, but he was charmed nonetheless. Genuinely charmed. He usually didn't spend enough time with you for you to have a chance at paying him anything other than the odd congratulations for one of his many accomplishments, but perhaps he should visit you more often. Even if your adoration came in the form of stupid pick up lines, he could make an effort to hear them more often. Not a lot, he still couldn't stand you, but your love for him made it easier. 

Mettaton thought briefly about how your love for him would be crushed if you found out what he had done to earn it, but waved it off. You'd already loved him before, he just made it so your love was much more direct, and besides, you wouldn't be talking to Sans anytime soon. The skeleton avoided your little circle of friends like the plague whenever you joined them, it was comical. Especially when you returned home after your little outings, expression full of sadness and movements slow with dread. 

Perhaps he was being too cruel, though. You can't be that bad, Sans had put up with you for nearly three years and that monster was decent. Ish. With some molding, you could be the ideal partner, or maybe he'd let you just be you. The cameras gravitated towards your personality and his producers all but radiated happiness whenever you walked on stage next to Mettaton. 

You were looking down at him like he was the world, and Mettaton knew that he was much higher than the stars ever could be. Sure, his fans often had a similar look to the one you were currently wearing, but this felt different. Smugness crept onto his lips as a shining smirk lifted the corner of his lips, and he fought the urge to make a narcissistic comment. He wanted you to be the next one to speak, he wanted your next words to stroke his already large ego. 

You leaned towards him, a distinct sadness hovering in your eyes as you opened your lips. "NASA must love you, you're the most beautiful _star_ this world will ever see," You looked almost broken as the humorless joke slipped from your lips. Your eyes shut and you turned away from him, one of your hands moving to clutch at where Mettaton assumed your heart was. 

Irritation sparked within him once more. If you were going to with him, you could _not_ be making such tasteless comments. You'd made it without any thought, and Mettaton thought for a moment that yes, he would have to morph your personality. Tweak it a bit, not by much. Just enough that you'd get over that trashy bag of bones and stop making stupid comments that mirrored Sans'. 

Rolling his eyes, Mettaton sat up, head tilted towards the sky. "Would you like to try again, darling?" His voice thrummed in the air, unnatural and robotic. Uncrossing his legs, Mettaton brought them to his chest, using his arms to support him as he sat. 

You smiled at the second chance, and Mettaton only hoped that you would have the sense to redeem yourself with a comment that wasn't dumb. Well, one that wasn't dumber than your usual comments. "When I wished upon a star, I never imagined one would come into my life," No, you disappointed him. Definitely dumber than the usual nonsense that poured from your lips. 

He turned to snap at you for making such an idiotic remark, but stopped short as he gazed upon the look on your face. Your expression still held a deep sadness, but you still regarded him as though he was the most wonderful thing you had ever seen. Which was a guarantee because there was nothing in any galaxy that could have possibly outshone him, but people usually restrained such looks and wonder, but you were displaying it raw. Mettaton found a slight pounding in his chest, one that wasn't there before, and chalked it up to being a minor malfunction. When he got home, if it persisted, he would shut this body down and return to that damned box until he could fix it. 

His interest in you only deepened, that expression currently on your face only growing exponentially with every second he spent meeting your gaze. In that moment, Mettaton decided that he would keep you. For now. Your utter devotion to his person was so present, how could he not allow you to indulge a bit further? You appeared content with the situation he had forced you to be in, not that you knew that, and while he severely disliked you, he definitely liked the attention you were currently giving him. 

You didn't break your stare even as a streak of light illuminated the night sky, clouds that were far off in the distance having come closer and were prepared to ruin his good mood. Sending a glare their way, Mettaton rose, taking your hand despite the grit now pressing against his metal. Your jovial smile only raised in intensity at his action, and he began to tug you towards the car, parked quite the distance away. His strides were not as large as they usually were, Mettaton taking care to slow down so that you could keep up with ease. 

While he didn't necessarily care for you, that look you gave him sent shivers down his frame and caused his wires to bundle up within him as he tensed. While sad that it had to come from you, and not from someone he could stand for more than a few minutes each day, Mettaton enjoyed the feeling your eyes had given him. Yes, he would keep you, for now, if only to keep giving you a reason to shower more worship down upon him. 

Mettaton hoped that those invisible cameras were turned away, his more romantic sensors thrusting the untrue idea that he was beginning to fall for you at him. He pressed you into the passenger side once the both of you finally arrived at the car, your shorter legs having slowed them down quite a bit, and joined you on the other side. Once settled in the driver's seat, Mettaton turned the car on and began to back out of the deserted parking lot, ignoring the stars as they twinkled high above him.


	17. Then

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mettaton POV  
> ****One year and four months after the breakup****

Mettaton sat on the plush seat, legs and arms crossed. He didn't need to act irate for the cameras, the emotion was genuine, directed at the arrogant gentleman who sat in front of him. The host of the impromptu interview was spouting nonsense and trying to sully your name, and while he wouldn't have minded it, he did it a great deal in his mind whenever you were brought up, this man was using cheap tactics to sway the audience in favor of his opinion. He wasn't bringing up the fact that you were annoying, he didn't bring up the fact that you made bad jokes, and he didn't bring up the fact that you worked out more than a gym rat. No, this man's reason for disliking you was that you were _Transgender_ and dating a _monster_.

Mettaton moved his right hand from where it had been tucked beneath his left arm, inspecting his flawless nails with a note of disinterest towards the host. The man talked over Mettaton's rude behavior, as he had been doing for the last half hour, "...Shouldn't you be dating someone as magnificent as you?" The host purred, and Mettaton agreed, though he didn't show it. "Not some nobody from who knows where? I've never heard of her before you started dating her, is she even really worth your time?" 

Mettaton stopped, eyes widening as he moved to look directly at the host. Her? She? No. No, no, no. This man was not misgendering anyone, not while Mettaton was around. "Tim, was it?" 

"Ted-!" 

"Whatever," Mettaton snapped, thrusting his hand back beneath his arm. Leaning forward, he sneered, "I fail to see what *****'s life has to do with yours. How it affects yours. For that matter, I cannot, for the life of me, comprehend why _his_ gender and _his_ choice of partner bothers you." Ted sputtered, hands raising defensively as Mettaton continued. "Are you jealous that _he_ loves _him_ self? From how willing you are to shit talk *****, I can only imagine how much you must hate yourself." Voice dripping with malice, Mettaton did not wait to hear a response. "Did you really call me here to make petty comments about my _boy_ friend? Pathetic." 

Mettaton turned his nose up at the host, the live audience going wild at his accusations. Ted stared, mouth wide open, and Mettaton hoped that he choked on a fly should one ever make the brave decision to venture into that disgusting cavern. Cocking his head and raising an eyebrow at the host, he tapped his foot, pausing for dramatic effect. He was prepared to launch into another miniature speech when Ted finally found the words he wanted to use. "I..uh..Well," Maybe not. 

Theatrics came easily to Mettaton, and this time was no different. "***** was a nobody before I met _him_ , and I am nothing without _him_." He laid thick emphasis on the proper pronouns that Todd or Tim or whatever his name was had failed to use. The crowd swooned at his words, but Mettaton only pursed his lips, daring the host to try again. He surveyed the annoying human with muted agitation wandering into his heated gaze. 

After a minute, the host turned to the cameras and asked them to be shut off. He was not going to meet Mettaton's challenge. Smart, the robot thought as he reclined further into his seat. The footage cut, and Mettaton leaped to his feat not a moment later. He strutted to the host, bowing so that his voice would only be picked up by Tyler. Todd. Whatever. His voice sounded like a vacuum, pressing into the space between him and the host easily, "Don't call again, and don't let me catch *****'s name on your lips again, or stars help me," Mettaton picked up on the presence of a microphone snipped onto Travis' collar. Mettaton hadn't needed one, his voice naturally amplified, so he mouthed the rest of his sentence, "I will destroy you." 

The last part was completely necessary. The moment Tony had refused your identity by misgendering you, the need to protect you tore through his hardware and motivated his newfound hatred for the puny human host. Rising to his full height, Mettaton ignored the terrified look that had taken place in Theodor's eyes, not stopping to address the crowd as he sashayed off stage. Before he had taken more than half a dozen steps behind the curtain, his producers came bounding up to him like rabbits on drugs. 

"Great job!" One exclaimed. 

"We could really feel the emotion coming off of you!" Another yipped. 

"Your ratings went up even more!" A third yelped. 

"Fantastic!" A fourth declared. 

All of them dived into a chorus of praises directed at him, but they trailed off as Mettaton continued passed them. Jaw set, the robot marched further backstage, no longer focused on swaying his hips to keep a dramatic flare. You were his goal, and wherever you were located was his destination. 

His teeth clenched as the idea of you seeing that embarrassing interview crossed his mind. He hoped you weren't near any television screens, and if you were, he hoped they hadn't just been showing the program he'd just been on. He could care less if you noticed his silence for a majority of the show, he didn't want you to have heard how what's-his-face, the dumb human not deserving recognition beyond that, tore you down. 

He was struck with regret. He really should have said something earlier. His frown deepened, lips twisting to odd angles as he pressed on, stopping at each door to peek in. He should have stopped what's-his-face earlier, he should have done something to change the topic or at the very least make the ignorant human shut up. Mettaton would not be making that mistake again. 

Tearing open yet another door, Mettaton prepared to turn away from the room, as most were empty, and search again when he noticed that this room was not like most. You sat, back against the wall and shoulders slumped. Your head hung forwards, and for a moment, Mettaton was confused. It clicked as he registered the soft snores that were filling the room, and Mettaton waited for the surge of irritation at the fact that you had skipped out of watching his show to sleep. It never came. 

Walking over to you, finding himself wanting to be slow, cautious, and quiet, Mettaton stalked closer. It took a little over a minute before he was able to lower himself to your level, thighs knocking against his calves with a clang that he thought would wake you up but didn't, and Mettaton leaned forward. His forehead knocked against the crown of your skull as he ventured too close, fingers dipping beneath your chin to lift your head up so you could face him. 

Mettaton studied you. You weren't waking at his touch, and he couldn't bring himself to care. There were deep bags resting below your eyes, and instead of the anger he had expected, Mettaton found guilt coiling in his gut. You had been working so hard to make sure that everything was perfect for today, staying up without his request to work with the maids and butlers that the hotel had provided, spending time with fans that he could not get to and assuaging the concerns of those who were mad at his absence, you had even busied yourself with preparing food for him, though he didn't need it. He hadn't thanked you for your efforts then, but he wanted to now. 

His inner monologue chimed that he was silly, that you were just a worthless human who he bashed on frequently, his inner comments harsher than what's-his-face could ever muster on screen, but he ignored it. Your snores were interrupted as Mettaton pressed his lips against yours, waking you with a sincere kiss. It wasn't the first time he had kissed you, the fourth time, actually, but the other three times had been for the cameras than for affection. Your eyes fluttered as he pulled away, a dumb smile gracing your features and causing something within him to soar. 

The back of your left hand pressed to your mouth as you stifled a yawn, pulling it away to reveal your smile yet again. "Are you about to go on?" You asked, and Mettaton found himself charmed by your voice, rough with sleep and admiration. 

"The interview has already concluded, darling," Mettaton chirped, surprised at how easy the forgiving tone came. He didn't even feel the need to chastise you. 

Your eyes widened and you rubbed at your eyes, failing to prevent a yawn from escaping in the process. "Wh..Really? I'm sorry, babe, I totally missed it. Obviously." Your brows furrowed, but Mettaton was no longer paying attention. Babe? That was new. That was certainly welcomed. You interrupted his thoughts yet again as your hand found his, removing it from your chin and instead entwining it with yours. "I'm sorry. I bet you did great, though!" 

Your tone leaked the vibrant affection you held for him, and Mettaton found his chest tightening and his smile becoming more genuine with every second that goofy smile stayed on your lips. It had faltered briefly, but seeing that he was not angry that you had missed his program had strengthened it. "I did, dear," Mettaton brought your hand to his face and pressed your palm against his cheek, forcing you to cup it. Your thumb brushed the smooth metal beneath his eye, and Mettaton leaned further into your touch. "The host, though? Absolutely atrocious. Do not fret about missing that program, I'd rather not have you busy yourself with watching it." 

"Are you sure?" 

Mettaton did not hesitate in nodding. "Absolutely not. Forget about watching it, darling." He insisted, and your gaze softened, head bobbing as you nodded. "That man was not worth my time, and _certainly_ isn't worth yours." The corners of your lips twisted into a smile that was so wide, Mettaton could feel his own cheeks hurting. You pulled your hand away and opened your arms, silently asking for a hug, and Mettaton quickly gathered you into his arms. 

You were annoying. You were frustrating. You were beyond irritating. But you were his, for now, and while he didn't like that it felt like he was getting attached to you, he was going to protect you from people like what's-his-face. 

Mettaton nuzzled his face against your cheek, feeling the laughter bubble out from your lips as you chuckled at the sensation. "Come on, darling, let's leave this dreadful place."


	18. Then

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mettaton POV   
> ****One year and five months after the breakup****

Mettaton stood, shuddering breaths pushing from his open mouth, his fans exerting more energy to press the air beyond his lips. He didn't need to breathe, his fans were installed simply to keep his structure cool and keep him from overheating, but right now, he was glad to have the option. His mouth hung in what was no doubt unflattering, his eyes pointed to the scene in front of him as he paused. His fingers dug into the metal doorknob in his left hand, and he could feel the material denting beneath his touch. 

You sat on your bed, sobbing. Your eyes were shut, and you didn't make a move to acknowledge Mettaton as he gawked at you. Silent tears streamed down your cheeks but the sounds escaping from your lips were anything but quiet, your pitiful gasps for air piercing through the room and striking Mettaton like a slap to the face. Anger sparked in his wires, and before he could stop himself, he was stomping over to your form. 

He had only come in to check on you, the both of you having only just returned home that evening. He was glad that he'd made that sudden decision, arms wrapping around you and drawing you to his chest. You let out a startled gasp, but made haste of throwing your arms around his middle and pressing into him eagerly. You tried to keep your face away from his metal, but he wasn't having it, nudging you as close as you could get in your seated position. 

Mettaton's very soul twanged with heavy sadness as his fingers ran against your scalp, curving back down to run your back and rub at the fabric covering your skin. Your shirt rode up slightly from his ministrations, but Mettaton paid the fact no mind. His robotic voice overpowered your sniffles and breathing, "*****, darling, what's wrong?" When you didn't answer, right away, he repeated his question.

You mumbled something into the expanse that was his chest, and Mettatom prompted you to pull away and repeat it. "I-It's nothing," Coupled with a sharp intake of breath, that sentence was very much a lie. "It's stupid, don't worry about it." 

Had he pushed you away so much that you didn't feel comfortable sharing your thoughts with him? The thought would have overjoyed him months ago, but now it caused a surge of self loathing coursing through his hardware. Mettaton combated the self-afflicted virus while whispering to you, this moment not needing his boisterous voice, "It's not stupid if it's making you cry, darling. Please tell me?" No answer. "Please?" 

You shuffled your body closer to his, preparing to muffle your words behind his body, but he would not have it. Clasping his hands around your shoulders, Mettaton pushed you away slightly, his legs unfolding from beneath him as he moved so that he could look directly into your eyes. Your eyes shone brightly, contrasting with the shadows dancing across your face greatly. You maintained eye contact with him for a moment before looking off to the side. Your voice shook as it escaped into the air, "I was thinking about Sans.." Your eyes flashed back to him, and upon seeing his expression change, you gasped, "I told you, it's stupid!" 

Rising so he towered above you, Mettaton stretched before promptly throwing himself at you. His arms encased your form and hugged you tight to his chest as he tackled you onto the soft mattress, turning so that you lay on top of him. Your cheeks flushed with a vibrant blush that Mettaton did not see as he rested his chin against your skull. "And like I told you, darling, it's not stupid if it's making you cry." 

You were silent for a moment, but your tears began to fall again. You released your anguish at events that occurred well over a year prior, but Mettaton did not stop you. Instead, he found himself whispering praises to you, his voice laden with an emotion he never imagined he'd have for anyone who wasn't himself. How had this happened? How had you gone from the most annoying thing on this Earth, Sans aside, to becoming one of his most beloved..Possessions didn't seem to fit what you were to him. He had gradually become possessive of you, but you were not an object. 

Mettaton wouldn't say that he loved you. He wouldn't even say that he liked you, he didn't like anyone who wasn't himself, Napstablook, or Alphys. But you were getting up there. By the stars above, you were getting there. You'd wormed your way into his chest cavity like a maggot, and it seemed that you were going to stay a while, regardless of what Mettaton did to try and dig you out. 

But for right now, he was content on letting you stay there. He didn't question how you had managed to find a place among his very small list of tolerated people, but he acknowledged that you had made it. What had initially started out as a plan to crush Sans into smithereens had careened into something more, a budding friendship with you under the disguise of something more. The stars were either kind or cruel in detailing his fate, Mettaton couldn't decide. He just hoped this development wouldn't turn to bite him in the ass later. 

Mettaton was pulled from his thoughts as he noticed your weight slump against him, soft snores replacing your cries, the occasional sniffle dabbing at the air. He continued to run his hands down your back, smoothing out your shirt before rumpling it on his way back up. 

He was doing a great job at protecting you, the aftermath of his actions causing you to cry, Mettaton scolded himself silently. Brows furrowing, he lead himself away from such thoughts, angling his head awkwardly to look down at you. Currently, only your skull was visible to him, but it was enough to ward away those troubling and traitorous thoughts. A genuinely fond smile made its way onto his lips, and Mettaton strained to nuzzle into what little hair you had. He could easily extend his neck, but he wanted to stay where he was, regardless of how comfortable he was. 

Mettaton looked around your room. The room was larger than most people's living rooms, but it was too small for him. Similarly, the bed was softer than even Queen Toriel's, but it wasn't fitting for a star as great as him, and by extension, it wasn't good enough for you, either. The space was sparsely dotted with furniture, and the longer he stared, the more problems he found with the room he had picked for you. Tomorrow, he decided, he would move you into his bedroom. 

But tonight, he was content with just laying with you atop of him. Your light snores grew louder, only slightly, and the sniffles stopped all together in time. Mettaton felt your heartbeat as it thumped against him through your layers of clothes, skin, and bone. He indulged in the thought that it was his song, one you were playing just for him. His fans were prone to sending him similar tributes, songs and drawings and writings and every genre of art imaginable having been dedicated to him already, but this felt indefinitely more special than any other thing he had been gifted. 

Mettaton settled in the too-small room, on the not luxurious enough bed, and rested with you in his arms.


	19. Then

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mettaton POV   
> ****One year and six months after the breakup****

Digital hearts sprang to his buttons as Mettaton gazed at you, your laughter ringing in his ears like the most wondrous of songs. He frowned and focused on fixing the malfunction that he could see was affecting his usually square buttons, the light of their intensity shining over your hunched over form, two pink hearts illuminating your figure. Mettaton choked back sputters and stammers as his inner mechanics twitched to try and get rid of the error, your continuous laughter only furthering the light's hue. 

Soon, two hot pink blurbs that looked vaguely like hearts showered over you, but you were laughing too hard to see them. Your head was tilted back as you guffawed, something Mettaton would have previously scowled at but now only gave him immense joy. He leaned towards you, the table proving to be a nuisance as it created a gap between the two of you, and Mettaton nearly tossed it aside. The sound of your voice as it bubbled out in giggles captivated him, and he wanted to hear it forever. 

He had finally taken you out on a date, an actual date, and he couldn't have been happier for it. You suggested somewhere inexpensive, where neither of you would be disturbed by anyone, and the press of your lips against his had cut off any protests that were forming in his throat. And here you both were, seated at some lowly place with a name he hadn't bothered to spare a second glance, him in his original calculator-esque form, and you wearing a casual tuxedo he had given you. The tie around your collar was loosened, and Mettaton wished that he had been the one to do that. 

He was immensely upset with himself for changing into a form nearly unrecognizable to all but the most devoted of his fans. In his Ex form, he could at least hide the hearts as they captivated his pupils. In this form, his buttons all lit up to form two very large hearts, and it was absolutely embarrassing. 

Your laughter chimed, only growing quieter as time wore on. You had released your hold on the table, hands gripping at your sides and fingers pressing against the coat of your tux before diving into the suit, digits squirming to massage the now sensitive muscles. Mettaton's worry that you would open your eyes and see the hearts forced him to turn away, twisting a near one-eighty degrees to hide his face from you. He grimaced, on the wall across from him sat his body's betrayal, the bright hearts taunting him. 

"Mettaton," You purred, and his blush grew in intensity. He willed for the hearts to go away, and by some miracle, they did. Moving to face you again, Mettaton's wheel jerked at your appearance. You had settled, a slight blush adorning your cheeks as you leaned forward towards him. Your left elbow was propped on the table, your hand covering your mouth from his sight, but your lips peeked out from behind your fingers, the index teasing at your lower lip. Your gaze was filled with a fondness that made his soul stop, and Mettaton gulped air he did not need. 

At having successfully caught his attention once more, you removed your hand and pressed the palm flat against the table, your teeth taking your finger's place as the hard bone dug into your lip, tugging it lightly. Your eyes lidded, and your voice rumbled from your throat again, but Mettaton pulled away, hands covering his face. 

How had you moved from charmless to charming? You were riveting, and you didn't even have to try! It was unfair, Mettaton thought to himself, you were cruel. He at least deserved a warning before you did something like _that_! 

Fans whirring loudly from within, Mettaton breathed heavily. You were too much. You were going to be the death of him. Where had the annoying little human gone, and why was he replaced with someone so stunning? Had Sans put up with you for so long because of this new personality, which shined up at him in the form of lame jokes, love, and adoration? No, Mettaton thought, he was the only one who you could love this much. Sans had probably stayed with you because of your humor. There was no way that you could ever love that bony trash bag as much as you loved him. 

His name hummed from your lips again, Mettaton flushing a deep read as shivers ran along his arms and rattled his box. With a shaky intake of breath he didn't need, Mettaton swiveled to face you. 

Your face was cupped in your hand as you leaned against your own touch. There was a distinct smugness to your voice as you cooed, "Those hearts are cute, Mettaton," 

Mettaton jumped slightly in his seat, hands slapping against his various buttons and dials. The hearts had come back? Your laughter slowed his frantic movements, and after a minute stopped them completely. He pulled his hands away to look at you, and you started, "They're not there anymore, babe. I saw them earlier," Mettaton let out a sheepish smile, arms flat against the table as he studied you. "You're so cute," Your words sent another dusting of blush to caress his buttons and settle over his features. 

Your laughter danced in the air again, and Mettaton mumbled to himself, "You're such a tease,"


	20. Then

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mettaton POV  
> ****One year and seven months after the breakup****

The press was having an absolute field day at their expense, cameras, actual cameras, chasing away the natural shadows with artificial light for moments at a time. The cameramen were speedy, jogging to keep up where no cars were allowed, and Mettaton could almost see the headlines that would likely be present on the next _People_ magazine: **METTATON TRADES FASHION SENSE FOR BAGGY SWEATS**

But Mettaton did not scowl. His smile was as ever present as it had been before the media began to follow them, and the reason for it still being there was currently running on his left. Mettaton glanced, his hardware malfunctioning yet again when he saw that determined face, eyes lifted towards the finish line even though it was still miles away. You paused, tongue peeking out from your mouth to glide over your lips before turning towards Mettaton, a brilliant smile carrying from your lips and into your eyes as you showed him genuine happiness. 

You had begun training for a marathon, the name of which failed to come to him though he knew it well. It was important to you, and he had picked up the strange habit of always trying to be knowledgeable of things that you cared about. When he found that you would be away from him more often than not due to your intense training with Undyne, Mettaton had insisted that he run the race with you. It was too late to register by then, but Mettaton gets what Mettaton wants, and the directors of the race were very eager to have him appear on their track. You had been ecstatic then, and you were elated now, a glowing smile still pressed on your features even as you turned away. 

He could just stretch his legs out from the start point to the finish, his legs were fantastic like that, but wanted to spend as much time with you before he was whisked away by his producers and you by Undyne. 

The sun began peeking over the horizon, but the stars had already been drowned out by the light of the cameras. Honestly, what were they thinking? They would just catch blurry images of you two, and were honestly just wasting their time now. And his, Mettaton added, a light frown twitching at the corners of his lips. 

Your breathing came out in short huffs, and Mettaton focused on that instead of the nuisances trying to chase them down. The finish line was so close, now, maybe a mile and a half. If he really tried, he could have seen Undyne waving enthusiastically at their soon-to-be arrival, but he wasn't looking. He pressed on, metal clanging against the asphalt in a way that assured he would need to buffer out the dents later, and lost himself in thought. 

How had you gone from being the most annoying thing in his life to the most important? He'd had a master plan, but it never detailed that you would allure him with your smiles, it never outlined that your very presence would cause palpitations in places where there should have been nothing, it never explained how he would always desire to draw you closer no matter the place or time, and it _never_ mentioned him falling for you? Was that even in the plan? No, the plan was to drop you on your face after a few days once the two of you became official, once he saw Sans' face. 

But you wiggled your way into his life, despite him having brought you there initially. You were persistent and loving and adoring, and all in all, you made Mettaton feel important. Which was ridiculous because he was arguably the most important monster on the planet well before you began to inhabit his world, but your very presence chased away doubts he didn't know he had and brought feelings he wasn't aware he could feel towards anyone who wasn't him. 

A few months ago, he had decided to keep you by his side because of an admiring look you cast upon him, but now, he was the admirer. Perhaps he wouldn't go as far to say that, but he certainly paid you a special amount of attention that no one else as gifted. 

"Almost..There!" You grunted, and Mettaton began to pay attention to the world around him. You were right, the finish line was a few dozen or so paces away. He was about to confirm your statement verbally when you shot ahead, springing towards your friend in a vicious sprint. Stunned for a moment, Mettaton quickly caught himself and pounded his feet against the pavement until he was again by your side. 

The two of you crossed the finish line together, but before you could say anything, Mettaton's hands were on your shoulders and he was drawing you close. He wanted to see that dazed look that appeared whenever he touched you, he wanted to see stars in your eyes, ones that weren't him, as he pressed a kiss to your lips. Mettaton watched your eyes widen, but close as you took in what must have been an Earth shattering display of affection for you, and Mettaton's eyelids closed, too. Your mouth was sticky with saliva, the substance staining the corners of his lips as your wet flesh touched his cold metal, but he waved off the thoughts of how unsanitary it was. 

The next morning, Mettaton looked upon a newspaper that had a picture of him kissing you plastered on the front page, the headline reading: **MARATHON? ***** INDULGES IN A BIT OF METTATON INSTEAD**

Reading over the article, Mettaton noted that they didn't even mention his attire once.


	21. Then

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mettaton POV  
> ****One year and eight months after the breakup****

You had bared your soul to him, shared your inner turmoil regarding your biggest fears, irrational or not, and Mettaton felt compelled to do the same. You had begun to go to him for comfort, and during the night, with you resting in his bed, you were prone to sharing little tidbits about yourself. You told him your dreams, your goals, your accomplishments, your regrets, everything. You wanted him to feel included in the life he had missed before he had so rudely taken you from your ex, not that you knew that last part, and you hadn't expected anything in return. You respected his silence, you never asked him to share his own life, and now, Mettaton found himself wanting to. 

The door creaked open as you slipped inside, your skin damp from your time in the shower. Mettaton tore his gaze away from the picture frame in his lap to look into your eyes, or at least, try to. Your eyes were closed, arms poised above you as you stretched. For a moment, it looked like you would stumble, but you caught yourself by stepping a leg forward. Your body made a cracking sound, something that unnerved him regardless of how often he heard it, and your arms lowered. Your right hand stayed by your head, though, fingers rubbing at your eye for a moment. 

Finally, you opened your eyes to look into his. Your smile was sincere as you whispered, "Hey there." Your husky tone was enough to drive him mad, but Mettaton refrained from making unnecessary advances, for once. The frame on his lap weighed him down, as if it were seven hundred times its actual weight. Mettaton smiled up at you, fingers tracing the edges of the object in his hands, and you took your eyes off him for a second to look at it, but your gaze quickly returned to meet his. 

Uncertainty clouded his mind as you stood. He wanted to draw you close, chuck the picture far away and just hold you, forget that he ever wanted you to see the image, but he held back. You stood in the doorway for what couldn't have been more than thirty seconds, but Mettaton felt as though years passed him. "Come here," He managed. "I want to show you something." 

There was no turning back now, your gait confident as you made your way over. You were next to him before he could process it, but you didn't look at the object he held, keeping your eyes respectfully trained on him. His calves dug into the side of the mattress a bit more, and he exhaled deeply. How was he going to do this? 

You lowered yourself to sit beside him, breath still uneven after your training with Undyne. He'd been unable to attend, his producers advising him to actually attend the interview scheduled for that morning, and it had taken him until evening. By the time he had returned, you were already washing up in the bathroom, and he had had no choice but to wait in the bedroom until you exited the shower. He had been planning to whisk you into his arms and just hold you, but something gleaming in the far right corner of the room had caught his eye. It was an old picture, its contents brought shame to him and so he had thrown it there some time ago and had never bothered to clean it up. 

From the moment he registered the image, he wanted to share it with you. And so he had sat on the edge of the bed, a war raging within him as he debated between shucking it away again or keeping it in his grasp until you came. Would you be disgusted by the picture? Would you shun him for who he was in the Underground? 

"Mettaton?" Your voice filled the air, and his shoulders hitched slightly. He sent a strained smile your way, but you didn't return it. Concern seeped into your gaze as you rubbed your shoulder against his arm, "What's wrong?" You didn't hesitate to cover his hand with your own, your hand forcing his away from the picture frame to entwine with yours. "You don't have to show me anything if you don't want to," 

You made him feel like a God, and now was no different. Your concern for your deity was painted so extravagantly within your eyes and your actions, Mettaton wondered why he was ever worried. Squeezing your hand, which currently sat in his right, Mettaton allowed his gaze to slip from you back down to the picture below. He was in it, of course, but instead of a beautiful form constructed by the grand Alphys, it was his original blook form. He was floating high in the air, a microphone in front of him as he poured his soul into it through his voice. It had been his very first performance ever, and at the time, it was his greatest achievement. Now, it was an embarrassment, but it was the only picture of his original form that he still had. 

Napstablook likely had more, but he wasn't about to go and ask to see them. Just peering at this photo was enough. 

The lights of that dingy restaurant had shone down upon him, twinkling like the very stars he had yet to see at the time. His pink form was glowing with a happiness so bright, if he really focused on dredging up the memory, he could still feel it. Mettaton's left eye was closed in a flirtatious wink, directed at the camera more so than the ghost holding it. That moment had been exhilarating then, but brought a scowl to his lips now. 

How could anyone have ever loved such a terrible thing? His ghostly form was not beautiful, not when compared to the Mettaton Ex form he currently called home. Even his calculator-esque form had been more attractive than that ghastly thing had been. 

Mettaton glanced back at you. Your eyes were still on his face, pointedly ignoring the picture until he instructed you to look at it. He knew he could ask you to close your eyes and he would be able to get away with throwing it out the window or in the trash, something dramatic for the always present imaginary cameras, but he wanted your acceptance. It was absurd, you were a lowly little human whose fate depended on him, he needn't your acceptance any more than he needed his neighbor's, but he wanted it. 

His left hand gripped the frame tighter, hairline fractures cracking the corners as he shoved it over to you, dropping it into your lap. His voice was hoarse, though imperceptibly so unless one knew him well, and Mettaton wished he could turn away. "Look at it," 

You faced him for a few heartbeats more, but when Mettaton turned away from you and hung his head, your head drooped to look at the object he had given you. You studied it for a moment, and Mettaton waited for you to pull away from him, to demand that a being that once was disgusting never grace you with his presence again. You disappointed him, but it gave him no relief when you didn't, instead your mouth opened and you asked, "Is this you?" 

He nodded, his grip on you tightening. Perhaps you were waiting to build up tension, perhaps his theatrics had rubbed off on you and you wanted until the moment was just right before you left. "Abhorred, I know, darling. There is no need to spare me your words of revulsion, I know how disastrous that form was," 

You pressed your body against his firmly, your shoulder nudging him. "Revulsion? Why would I be disgusted by this?" Shocked, Mettaton's head whipped so that his face was towards you instead of the headrest it had previously been directed at. You didn't look up from the picture, a kind smile resting over your lips. "You were cute then, and you're cute now." You lifted your head to meet his stunned gaze, "Why were you so worried to show me this?" 

He'd only revealed his "True" form to a select few, and while none had reacted negatively, they hadn't been as dazzled with his blook form as they were with his metal frame. Brows furrowing, Mettaton asked, "You're not disgusted by my birth form?" 

You shook your head, left arm moving to gather around his waist. You scooted closer to him, smile genuine and lovely, "You're not disgusted by mine, right? I don't care about your blook form, though you shouldn't be ashamed by it." You were speaking from experience, he knew. "I'm not of mine. I'm happier who I am now, but I can't help what gender I was born into no more than you can help what body you were born with." 

"Darling," Mettaton breathed, his head drifting closer to yours. 

You bounced on the mattress to place a kiss on his cheek, though he'd much rather it have been on his lips. "I changed to fit who I am inside, and that's what you did." Mettaton was captivated by your words, head bobbing as he listened to you. The fact that you weren't striking him or using a great deal of theatrics to toss him aside sparked both astonishment and giddiness. You didn't break eye contact with him as you continued speaking, "Like I said, you were cute, but I can tell you like this body more," Your right arm crossed over your body to reach over and tap his thigh. "So I prefer it, too." 

He couldn't care less about which form you preferred, but it was obvious that you had believed him to hesitate in showing you for fear of you leaving him. Perhaps he _could_ care less, and maybe, somewhere deep within him, that was the reason he had hesitated. You placed the picture behind you gently, wrapping both arms around his middle and drawing him closer than he already was. 

Mettaton didn't move for a moment, but his arms quickly enveloped you, pulling you up so that your face was by his. Your knees sank into the mattress as you leaned into Mettaton, your lips moving to say something but he completely missed the first half of it, cutting you off with a kiss and dragging you down with him as he set his back firm against the mattress. 

Something twanged within him, but Mettaton would not have called it "Love", as his more romantic side was so insistent on calling it. You were beyond tolerated now, and he could even say that he liked you, but it couldn't have been more than that. 

As Mettaton stained your lips a heady red, his kisses bruising your lips and causing you to become almost drunk with the sensations he gifted you, Mettaton acknowledged the happiness spreading through him. Yes, he thought, this feeling is nothing more than the usual jovial feelings brought up whenever you so much as looked his way. Absolutely nothing more.


	22. Now

You awoke that morning with an ominous feeling that something bad was going to happen. The premonition settled within you and twisted your stomach, and you were thankful not to have any food left in your stomach, the contents would probably be rolling and lurching. Your head twisted from side to side, trying to locate your boyfriend, who was nowhere to be found. Dread squirmed into your heart and fear took hold as a terrible shriek sounded from downstairs. 

You were wrong, something bad wasn't _about_ to happen, something bad was _happening_. You threw the covers off of you and leaped out of the bed. Sometime during the night, you had kicked your large pajama pants off, and your fingers scrambled to grab them. Tugging the material over your legs, you raced out of your bedroom, dashing towards where the screams were coming from. 

You stopped at the top of the stairs, hovering over your foyer. The scene below you was borderline terrifying, two of your best friends looked ready to destroy your boyfriend, who had a hostile expression stretched across his features. "Undyne! Toriel!" Your fingers clutched at the banister, stopping you from moving any closer. No one looked up at you. "What are you guys doing here?" 

Undyne's voice was low and cold, the intensity of it shaking your bones, down to your core, and her tone almost made you stop breathing. "Exposing this _loser_." The affectionate term that so casually slid off her lips before sounded scornful and malicious now. Your eyes narrowed and you grimaced, what was going on? You scanned the room for any hint of what was happening. 

It appeared that Undyne had crashed into your home, Toriel following suit, though it was obvious they had tried to be polite about it. The only objects disturbed by their entrance was a coat rack and two umbrellas, though the door was beginning to smoke with how close it was to Undyne's spears. Looking closer, you noticed papers scattered behind Mettaton, though Toriel was holding some to her heart with her left hand, her right smoldering as fire pressed through her fingers. 

Toriel shot a despaired glance your way as Mettaton spoke up, "*****, go back into the room." 

"No!" Undyne screeched, her hand jerking forward, the spear jabbing towards your boyfriend. You jumped at that, streaking down the stairs two at a time until you stood directly in front of him, your body like a shield. If this phased Undyne, she made no mention of it. "You're going to tell him. You're going to tell all of us." The air popped with aggressive magic as it fizzled from both Toriel and Undyne, the former of which who carried the expression of a woman scorned. 

You didn't move from your position in front of Mettaton, a somber glare casting onto the monsters in front of you. "What is going on?" You yelled, your voice escaping into the night through the open door. 

"Go back upstairs," Mettaton growled, his furious stare set on the fish-like woman in front of him. 

"I'll tell you," Undyne hissed, taking a threatening step towards Mettaton, and by extension you. Mettaton started to protest, but Undyne was louder. "This _calculator_ -!" 

"Go back upstairs!" 

"--Let his guard down. Opened the door with those," She gestured to the papers strewn about the floor. 

"*****! Go back upstairs!" 

"In his hand. We just wanted to talk," The vicious snarl curving her lips became all the more menacing when accompanied by an unsympathetic smile. "Wanted to ask a few questions, but I wanted to see what they were." Mettaton shouted your name again, fingers tightening around your shoulders as he began to pull you away. His voice was desperate and needy, and you watched in unrestrained distress as Undyne stabbed at him, barely missing. "These papers are something you might be interested in seeing," 

You glanced up at Mettaton. His eyes were filled with an intense anxiety, and you found yourself unable to even reach for the leaflets in Toriel's hand, nor could you bring yourself to scoop some off of the floor. "I'm not." Undyne paused, her eyes clouding with frustration as she gazed down at you. "I'm not interested." Your fingers curled against Mettaton's chest as you remembered the time he had showed you his original form, something he had wanted to hide from you. But he trusted you then, and he'll trust you with whatever those papers were. He just wasn't ready yet. 

A sound of confusion squeaked passed both Undyne and Toriel as you continued, "He'll show me when he's ready." 

Mettaton studied you with pure relief echoing in his eyes, and you smiled, which quickly twisted to a frown as Undyne yelped, "He'll never be ready to show you how he's planning to keep you and Sans apart!" You tore your gaze from your love to look at Undyne, it was your turn to be confused. Toriel had cast her eyes to the floor, her lips displaying the full extent of her sadness, for you could not see her eyes as they hid behind a curtain of fur. Undyne snatched a paper from Toriel, who did nothing to stop it, and presented it to you. You kept your eyes trained on her, ignoring the temptation to stare at those colorful pages. "I can't read code, but I _can_ read words! Read it!" 

You didn't remove your hands from where they were pressed against Mettaton's chest, nor did you turn your focus to the small text that sat directly in front of your face. You shook your head at her, "He's not ready, yet," 

"He'll never be ready!" 

"Then I'll never know," You finished, looking back up at Mettaton. 

Undyne was not settled with your answer, not in the least. She twirled the paper in her grin, arm bending awkwardly as she turned it to face her. "Let's start at the cover page, then," Her spear disappeared, the room no longer flooded with the laser-like intensity. Both hands now free, she grasped at the pamphlet in a similar fashion one would grab a book. "METTATON'S BIGGEST PERFORMANCE YET: Starring the Fantastic and Marvelous Mettaton, his handsome lover *****, and a dumb skeleton," The sound of a page flipping set your bones on edge as you glanced quizzically up at Mettaton, no longer able to hide your curiosity. "First page, left side: A sequel to the show of a lifetime, Mettaton finds himself troubled yet again as his actions cause turmoil within his love life. Never fear!" Your boyfriend shuffled uncomfortably, his whispers begging you to run back upstairs. "As daring as the first part in this epic tale, Mettaton comprises a plan to ward off peril, danger, and heartache." 

Undyne continued, and by the time she had finished reading that first page, you were shaking in Mettaton's hold. "Stop," You pleaded, but your cries went unheard as your friend pressed on. "Please, stop," 

From the short blurb of text read to you, it indicated that Mettaton had something to do with Sans breaking up with you. It mentioned "Incriminating documents", "White lies turned dark with deception", and "The triumph of a lifetime," You were trembling in his grip, your arms moving to push him away from you. You didn't want to hear this. You couldn't hear this. 

Your heart dropped in your stomach as Undyne read the first line of the second page, "The dastardly Mettaton's villainous prowess rewarded by the affections of *****, his previous actions threaten to steal his love away as Sans moseys his way back to ***** with the want to rekindle what was lost, no doubt." Your breath caught, and you flung yourself away from Mettaton. His fingers raked against your arms, hands trying to grasp at yours before they flew by him but he wasn't fast enough. 

"*****, please, don't listen to this. It's a dream, I promise you it's a dream," The night was chilly, but the goosebumps lining your skin were not from the cold. "It's for my next performance, I would never hurt you. It's an act, darling, I promise. _Please_." 

You stumbled, backing into Undyne as she continued to read, but Toriel caught you before you could fall. The goat woman drew you into a protective hug, her face pressed against the crown of your skull. "Using tactics similar to the ones used in prior battles, the wondrous and fantastic Mettaton races against the clock to ensure that his ***** stays with him, but will time run out for the beautiful star?" Yes, your eyes blurred with tears, yes it will. 

Your heart was breaking, and from the look plastered on his face, Mettaton's was, too. Undyne read page after page before stopping as the lines of code popped up. The booklet was thrown onto the ground, and you couldn't help but imagine that it was a symbol for your relationship, the pages tearing as Undyne ground a foot into it. It was dramatic and unnecessary, but you couldn't care any less. 

Your back pressed firm against Toriel's front, you whispered, "What did you _do_ , Mettaton?" He began to make an excuse, and your voice erupted from your throat, loud and clear with betrayal lacing your tone, "What did you do? Tell me!" 

His shoulders slumped, and he offered a sad smile, "I'm not ready to tell you?" 

Your breathing hitched as tears leaked from your eyes. It was too early for this. The sky was still a playground for shadows, it was still dotted with moonlight and stars. You hoped you were dreaming, but you knew that you were not. "What did you do?" You cried, "What did you do?" 

You turned so that your back faced him, burying your face in Toriel's dress. You gasped and gulped at air that was pushed from your lungs too quickly, your grief cutting through you in anguishing waves as you realized that you were right before, he had been hiding something from you. The words that had spilled from Undyne's lips stung like poison, and you weren't sure anyone had the antidote. 

"Was this all just a big act to you?" You let out, voice wavering as you bit back sobs. "Was this just a game?" 

"No, darling!" Mettaton started, and you assumed Undyne cut him off. He didn't hesitate to start again, though, "NASA must love you, darling, you're the most beautiful star this world has ever seen, will ever see." His voice sounded small, and the line pierced through you. 

"Try again." 

Upon your request, Mettaton dug up what you had said so long ago, "When I wished upon a star, I never imagined one would fall into my life." You let out a pained groan, forcing a smile at his words. Your source of happiness was also the source of your anguish. "Darling, let me see you. Come here," 

Toriel unwillingly allowed you to turn so that you could face your boyfriend, her arms keeping you pressed against her. Oily streaks had fallen from his eyes, something you wouldn't have imagined possible before today. His expression was so distraught, the hurt you felt only intensified. 

"Darling, I would never intentionally hurt you," 

"Sounds like the complete opposite, you useless toaster!" Undyne screeched from her place beside him, but Mettaton carried on regardless. 

"I love you, *****," Your eyes shut tightly, you wanted to block the world out and disappear. Unfortunately, the world would not go away just because you shut your eyes. "I love you, darling. I love you so so much, please." 

Toriel turned you so that your face was against her dress again, but before your words became too muffled, you choked out, " _Why_?" 

Mettaton was silent for too long, and your sobs began to fill the foyer again. Your gut curled and coiled, pain pumping in your veins and burning you. 

"*i wanna know why, too." 

Everyone froze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twenty two chapters later, and we still only have a little over half the word count IWAP has 
> 
> I'd say I'm doing well


	23. Then

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mettaton POV  
> ****One year and nine months after the breakup****

Despite having nothing to do with the race, aside from participating in it, the media dubbed the marathon as a "METTATHON", and he hated it. Those in charge of planning and hosting the favored running event went with it, changing signs so that they had logos of him, all banners now having that accursed "Word" splaying across them. Merchandise, from what Mettaton could gather, would hold a combination of his face and the made up word. His producers were ecstatic, his ratings skyrocketed, and you teased him endlessly. 

"Metta _thon_ ," You cooed, your arms gliding across the soft sheets sensually as you stretched, your eyes displaying both desire and laughter as they gazed upon his form. With a red tinge painting across his cheeks, Mettaton turned his face away from you, his lips pursed in a pout as he let out a soft whine. 

"Leave me be, darling," His arms left his sides and his hands pressed firm against his chest as he gasped, "Oh, darling, you are too _cruel_!" You let out a snicker, that golden sound ringing like the most glorious of bells, no, _more_ glorious. You chanted that disgusting variation of his name again, and Mettaton rose from his seated position next to you, shooting up to twirl dramatically. " _Darling_ how you wound me, too cruel, too cruel," 

When he opened his eyes, he saw that yours were closed. Your shoulders were shaking with silent laughter, and he willed that you would fill the room with that splendid sound again. While gasping for air, a delicious snort honked from your throat, and Mettaton was enthralled. Your nostrils were flaring as you tried to press as much oxygen into your lungs as you could, only for it to be pushed out seconds later with your quiet giggles. Your voice finally peeked from your throat, the noise tickling his senses despite the content containing that annoying word, " _Mettathon_!" 

His theatrical scowl melted from his face as he stared at you. Your arms were moving languidly from their position above you, your hips tantalizing as they wiggled, and your legs were curled and ever shifting as if you were trying to gain purchase on the bed, but despite all this, the most alluring thing before him was your face. Your cheeks were dark with laughter, teeth digging into your lips as you tried to stifle the sound, brows furrowing and rising as you tried to control your facial features, you were magnificent. Perhaps, instead of him, you were the star, and he your stardust? 

The thought was ludicrous, but it blazed on nonetheless. 

Mettaton was compelled to shower you in poetic rhymes and lyrical words as he gazed upon you, his lips outlining the words he wanted to say, though no sound belted from his throat. He stared at you with the utmost affection one could gift to their deity, and he felt the unnerving need to bow before you, silent praises spilling from his lips. When had you become the star, and he the hopeless but devoted fan? The change was shocking, he should have rejected it, but instead he slunk back onto the bed beside you. 

His fingers drifted over your exposed skin, your shirt having ridden up to stop just above your naval, the soft touches eliciting charming laughter to bubble from your throat. Mettaton tucked himself closer, face burying into your neck, his left leg tossing over yours and stilling their movement. His arms wound around you, tugging you gently until there was no space in between the two of you any longer. 

His metal was warm with magic, the heated touch of contact causing you to lean more into the embrace once you knew that his body was not chilly. You moved your head so that your chin rested against his solid hair, humming with delight, though the sound was occasionally interrupted with laughter. 

He cuddled with you until you fell asleep, the lack of movement or excitement lulling you to comforting dreams that you could deny no longer. The last thing Mettaton thought before joining you in slumber was that he hoped this, and the feelings that came with it, would never end.


	24. Now

Even Toriel stiffened, her arms becoming rigid traps that kept you against her momentarily before she relaxed enough that you could pull out of her grasp should you choose to, though she was still startled. You separated your head from the crushed velvet of her dress as the sound of slippers slapping against tiles filled the air, choking out the silence that had previously reigned in the foyer. Toriel shifted, taking you with her, as Sans shuffled out from behind her, sauntered into the room with an ease that disguised his anger, his face betrayed his emotions, though. 

He shot you a glance before continuing ahead of you, and your head swiveled to follow him, straining oddly in the position you kept. He stopped a few steps away from Undyne, who wore an expression of pure surprise. Apparently no one was expecting his appearance. "*you left out quite a bit in that story, bud," Sans kicked out a foot, scattering the papers beneath his feet. "*want me to fill in the gaps, or do you want to do it?" 

You couldn't see Mettaton from where you stood, he was too far away and you weren't an owl. Toriel's grip in your shoulders kept you limited, so you stepped out of her hold, spinning on your heels so that you, too, faced the robot. Your eyes were drawn to the skeleton, however. Even with his back to you, you could tell he was exuding a great malice on his features, blue wisps draining into the sky from his left side. 

When Mettaton didn't answer, Sans spoke up again, "*okay, _pal_ , i'll do it. but first, **_g e t d_** -!" 

You flung yourself away from Toriel, darting passed Sans and beyond even Undyne as you threw yourself into Mettaton's arms. Before they could settle around you, you spun around and faced the group, arms extended to act as a shield for Mettaton. You stared at the skeleton who towered over you, having moved closer as if to stop you before you got too close to the traitorous robot. You inhaled sharply, Sans looked terrifying. 

His right eye socket was a black void that threatened to suck you in if you stared too long. On the other side, his left burned brighter than the sun, yellow and blue flickering from his pupil in a way that reminded you of when he threw you out all those years ago. Your teeth dug into your lower lip in a moment of hesitation, but you quickly started to speak, "Stop it!" 

Sans, whose right hand had lifted, blue magic pulsing from his phalanges, paused. He could have easily plucked Mettaton's soul out and dunked it, hard, but your tone stopped him. 

You opened your mouth to speak, but the only one not paying attention to you cut you off as she grabbed the robot behind you. Undyne tugged Mettaton towards her with a ferocity that strained her arm, her right arm sailing back before launching forward, landing a nasty punch into the robot's face. The force dug into his cheek, denting the mental greatly at the place of impact and chipping it where her knuckles slammed into it. She pulled back for another punch, delivering it with ease. 

She had waited too long, if her actions were anything to go by, to do this. Both you and Sans could only watch as Undyne pulverized your boyfriend, Toriel frantically trying to pull the fish woman off. "YOU STUPID CALCULATOR!" She screeched, jaws snapping as if she'd like nothing more than to rip a chunk out of Mettaton with her teeth. Spittle flew into the air as foam dribbled passed her lips, her yelping only growing louder, "STUPID! STUPID! STUPID!" Each word was accentuated with another punch, and it took six more chants before Toriel could pull her off. 

The former Royal Guard tried to slip out of Toriel's hold, but the former Queen was stronger than she let on. Once Undyne's fists were out of range to strike him again, you began to move towards Mettaton. A skeletal hand shot out and pressed against your chest, stopping you. 

You glared at him for a moment, your own hand moving up to shove down on his arm and before he could stop you again, you marched over to your boyfriend. Eyes softening, you looked up at his broken form. His body shook in intervals as he leaned against the wall, his left hand planted against the wall as his right explored his dented metallic skin. His fingers prodded at the once-smooth metal gently, as though he was sifting through broken glass instead of surveying his facial damage. Both his face and his fingers were stained an inky black, the metal beneath his eyes slick with oil that continued to rain down his cheeks. 

His eyes were shut but the light pouring from his pupils shone through the cracks left behind by Undyne's fist. You reached up, fingers grazing against the cheek his hand did not rest upon. He flinched away, but settled when you cupped his face instead of striking it. "Mettaton," You exhaled, the name coming out just above a whisper. He eased further, his expression no less troubled, but he was leaning into your touch instead of letting you be the only one to engage contact. 

His right hand fell to his side and you continued to caress his cheek with your right hand. The interval between his twitches decreased in time, he was malfunctioning. You gazed up at him, eyes soft and caring, and you spoke loud enough for all to hear, "I love you, Mettaton." 

Your grip tightened as your left arm reared back, your fist sailing into his face not a moment later. Your eyes hardened as you looked up at him, your arms were not long enough to deal your full force. Releasing your hold on his cheek, you grabbed his shoulder and pulled him down. His eyes opened, bathing you in a pink glow as your arm extended behind you, fist ready to smack into his face again. His face was almost untouched where you had been caressing it moments ago, and you were aiming to change that. 

Your first slammed into his face, and he stumbled back to avoid your blows. No one intervened, Sans actually began to laugh, his voice filling the space between the sound of your knuckles smashing against metal, "*heh, get dunked on, nerd." 

Your arms hurt, your hands burned, but you pressed on. You could no longer reach his face, so you settled on dealing vicious hits to his chest. You lost count of how many you landed, but his hand captured yours, fingers curling around your fist, just before you landed a hit on that box decorated with a heart. With a sharp tug, he twirled you so that your back was planted against his chest, your arm raised above you as if the two of you were dancing. Oil dropped down onto your head as he hissed, "I can provide a fight of a higher caliber, darling," 

You met the gazes of all your friends, all three of them taking steps towards your position. You lowered your chin and glanced back at Mettaton, your voice forced through clenched teeth, "What did you _do_ , Mettaton." 

Mettaton's other hand rested on your waist, fingers digging into your cloth and pressing into your skin. "I thought Sans wanted to tell the story?" The aforementioned skeleton only continued to glare at the robot, his smile becoming more furious with each second that ticked by. "But I digress. It's not story time, darling, you know that, don't you? Story time is over for now," With your left hand captured in his and your right pinned behind his, you could do nothing but struggle against him. "But stay tuned!" 

Undyne jumped towards him, spear materializing in her right hand as she surged forward. Before she could raise it above her head to lash out, before she could even get close enough to slash at him, and by extension you, a bright light enveloped you both. It was intense, blinding, and you wished you could use one of your arms to shield your eyes. The hands holding you morphed int something else, the hand that had been previously digging into you was replaced with something that felt oddly cylindrical. 

As the light died away, you turned your face so that you could see Mettaton. You tugged at your restraints as you noticed that whoever had you now was not the robot you had fallen in love with. His voice cut off your train of thought as you realized the robot holding you was your beloved, but in a form you had never seen before. You weren't aware that he had more than two robotic forms! "Now, darling," His gaze was set forward, and you followed it to Sans, who had lifted his left hand as though preparing to strike, though he was much too far away to deal any damage. "How about a heart-" His hand released yours, and your arm stayed suspended awkwardly for a moment before dropping back down to your side. 

Mettaton jutted his hand out towards Sans, fingers extended as a neon pink heart materialized out of thin air, "--To heart?" 

Your boyfriend moved out from behind you, and you barely registered Undyne whispering, "Mettaton NEO?" 

Mettaton continued passed you, entering Sans' personal space and only walking forward even as Sans stepped backwards. "*bud, ain't this a bit unnecessary? i wasn't even gonna dunk you that hard." 

"My theatrics got me here, my theatrics will get me out," 

"*why'd you do it anyway, pal?" Sans was stalling, you could tell. Mettaton was apparently making no move to notice the fact that there were two other monsters he was not currently attending to, both of which were closing in on him. "*you hurt a lot of people." 

Mettaton snorted, "A lot? Three is a lot to you? You must not have a lot of friends if three of them in pain, including yourself, is troublesome." 

Toriel's flames were licking the air, now. "*four if you include yourself? because you're about to be in a world of pain," 

Mettaton didn't so much as pause as Undyne descended upon him, spear slashing the air just above him. Mettaton's right arm pointed behind him for a moment, something incredibly bright firing out of the weapon attached to him. Your best friend sailed through the air, her body tumbling onto the ground and Toriel's soon joining it as the former Queen shot towards the robot. 

His steps were slow and calculated as he pressed on towards the skeleton, who was very close to backing into a wall. You looked around the area before you, snatching up an umbrella and charging at the actor. At the sound of your footsteps falling heavily against the floor, Mettaton turned to face you. You met his gaze as you stabbed the umbrella forward, catching in a chasm. You twisted it up, hearing his screams of pain but continuing. 

Your heart shook within you, threatening to break if you persisted any further. This is for Undyne, you reminded yourself. This is for Toriel. 

Your teeth gnashed against each other as you ground them, pain rocketing through your jaw as you spoke, "A good friend told me a little while ago that 'Love' doesn't mean 'Control'," Your hands jerked skywards and you felt the umbrella ripping through something. "I guess you never loved me, because this entire relationship was manipulated by you," 

Your words rid Mettaton of his menacing expression. He stared at you with too much pain for it to be anything but real. Your name rumbled from his lips, and the distraction gave Sans enough time to dig his knuckles into the heart in front of Mettaton, the vicious punch knocking your robot out cold. You caught the body before it collapsed to the ground, lowering it gently to the floor. 

Your heart hurt so much just looking at him, that pained expression still holding onto his face, that you could only spare a glance up at Sans before collapsing yourself. You would find out what happened over three years ago, but that would come later. For now, you were content to sleep beside Mettaton one final time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really debating taking out the Mettaton NEO part, seems over dramatic  
> But then again  
> Mettaton is over dramatic


	25. Then

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mettaton POV   
> ****One year and ten months after the breakup****

Mettaton did not like how often you were away from him. There was only five months left to prepare for the marathon, and Undyne was always dragging you out to train for it. He would have attended more often, but his schedule ran rampant with shows, interviews, and acting rehearsals. Mettaton loathed the days where his only contact with you was a kiss on the cheek in the morning and hugging you close to him as you slept. Those days occurred too frequently, now. 

But not today. He wouldn't allow such a day to steal away today. He was tired of not being graced with your presence, and so he cleared up his schedule and shut off your alarm clock so you would not awaken before he could send Undyne away. This day, while not particularly special, would belong to the two of you and the two of you alone. This house would become a sanctuary away from those who worked tirelessly to keep them apart, Mettaton would make sure of it. If he could promise no other days, he would promise this one. 

Rising from his place beside you, Mettaton watched as you grabbed at the now empty space, a powerful pout settling on your features that threatened to force him to crawl back in bed. He resisted, barely, but did lean over to brush his lips across the temple of your forehead. You stirred at the touch, but did not wake. Once he straightened out his back again, he sent one final longing gaze your way, and began to add distance between the two of you once he turned away from your sleeping form. 

After he exited the room, the door clicking shut softly behind him, he disappeared down the stairs, through the foyer, and passed through hallway after hallway. Undyne was due to show up any minute now, and he had no doubts that your body had been trained over the last couple of months to wake up early, but he wanted to check on the kitchen staff. He had instructed that they busy themselves with preparing your favorite morning meal, the name of which he had gathered in one of his many late night talks with you. 

Aside from this meal, all others would be taken care of by him. He would pay tribute to you and the happiness you've bestowed upon him the last few months. 

Just before he could poke a head into the door, a loud voice sounded from outside. Undyne was arriving, and would likely not wait at the front door very long. Promising to check up on the food afterwards, Mettaton spun on his heels and moved back towards the foyer.


	26. Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mettaton POV

When his eyes finally cracked open, he was in too much pain to even register the sensation. Light was flooding through his pupils as his sensors tried to assess the damage, and Mettaton nearly scoffed at it. If he couldn't even feel it, then the data reports for where the pain was located at and the destruction that came as a result would be large, and his scanners would be searching for days. His chasms had been breached, his wires had been torn, and his heart had been broken. 

The last thing he remembered was seeing you, a fierce determination in your eyes as you drove an umbrella into him. 

A smile danced across his lips as he thought about how funny it was. You'd wielded an umbrella against him, what a terrible weapon indeed. The smile didn't last long as he realized that _you_ 'd attacked him. You had punched him, you had smashed into his insides with a weapon, and while he was sure it was Sans who delivered the final blow, he wouldn't put it passed you to have been the one to puncture his soul. Stars know that you'd pierced his heart. 

Mettaton NEO lifted his right arm to try and press it against his chest, but stopped when he found that it was weighed down by something. His sensors nearly blinded him as he moved his head, and he wondered if his neck had suffered an injury. Once the brightness subsided and he regained sight, he saw that it was you who held him down. 

Your face was troubled, even in your sleep. You had curled up, his arm hugged tightly to your chest and your right leg was draped over his. You were pinned between his body and the wall, tucked in a position that was no doubt uncomfortable, but still you rested. "Darling," He rasped, brows furrowing and eyes narrowing. Voices were present in the foyer close to where he lay, but they sounded as though they were miles upon miles away. His body twitched slightly, and he had a feeling that he did not crash to the floor as he should have. 

One of your eyebrows twitched, and you pressed your face harder against his arm. You had told him that you loved him, right before slamming a fist into his face. He should have been mad, stars know he was furious at Undyne for doing the same thing, sans the declaration of love, but the very sight of you stole his anger and replaced it with a fleeting numbness. 

He remembered the pain he had seen in your eyes, and felt ashamed. He had done this to himself. He had hurt you, and by extension, he had hurt himself. This body had no fans, as he was never in it long enough for it to overheat, and so only the movements went along with his attempted sigh. 

You stirred beside him, your exhaustion written clear on your face. When had he woken you up while dealing with Undyne and Toriel? You couldn't have gotten much sleep before the event, and he couldn't imagine that you managed to have pleasant dreams afterwards. His left arm rose, hand moving across his body to brush against your cheek lovingly. It was marred with oil that smudged at his touch, "Darling." 

The numbness was beginning to fade, a pulsating hurt developing in its wake. The feeling made him want to rip out his own soul and crumple it up, though he knew that wouldn't do him any good. His hand left your face and rested atop his chest, fingers thrumming against the hard metal. He didn't have the strength to revert back to his Ex form, nor did he possess the will to. He felt utterly broken, and for once, he wasn't being dramatic. 

In his mind, those invisible cameras cut off their feeds as soon as you came into view with a weapon. In his mind, those cameras caught nothing of your betrayal. In his mind, those cameras did not see what was currently running through his mind over and over again. 

He had been selfish. He had been petty. He had been moronic. Why had he even added that story line to the leaflets that outlined his plans? Why did he even have them when he went to answer the door? Why had he answered the door at all, for that matter? When the knocking had begun, it was extremely early, hardly passed two in the morning. He could have easily gotten away with waiting to deal with visitors later under the guise that he was sleeping. 

But the knocking had been rather loud. He didn't want it to disturb you, and so he had dealt with it there and then, plans in hand. 

His eyes shut, the light still filtering through his pupils, and when coupled with the metal eyelids, they were impossibly bright. His sensors were furiously adding retinal damage to the long list of internal and external destruction, but he didn't care. Only when you began to rise from beside him did he open his eyes and relieve himself of the tearing pain that he could not feel, the sensors slowing down their frantic reports in gratitude. 

Your eyes were not wide with fear as they should have been, instead they revealed a sleepy haze and a bit of agitation, but not the hatred and malice they should have. His arm did not fall from your grip as it should have, instead you hugged it closer, the muzzle of his weapon was angled so that it was towards your face betraying the immense trust you still had for him though that should have been broken. All of your actions and movements displayed that in your weariness you were still as in love with him as you were yesterday, and it pained him. You should have jumped at the chance to get away, why had you not fled from him yet? 

His voice broke into the air, his defeated tone baring his failure for all the world to hear, "Don't look at me, darling." Someone sucked in a breath, it was too far away to be you, and footsteps pattered against the floor. Your eyes stayed on his figure, plastered to his face as you tried to make eye contact, and he turned his head away. Left cheek now pressed against the floor, he studied the wall in front of him. Somewhere along the scuffle, something heavy had been knocked there, though he couldn't remember what. 

Undyne stomped into view, her singed hair and angry snarl letting him know that it was not a _what_ that had slammed against the wall, but a _who_. "Darling, don't look," Mettaton could still feel your gaze upon him, and he willed it to go away, for you to feel the emotions you should be feeling at his betrayal, both the one of long ago and the one he was going to go through with. Surely Sans told you of what he had done, what he had said, why had you slept beside him? 

"That was so unnecessary!" Undyne knelt down so that she was crisp in his field of view. "We were just going to talk! Make you apologize! Did you really have to go all crazy NEO on us?" 

She had planned to take you away from him, he could see it in her eyes when he first opened the door. Of course he had to evolve into his final form. He couldn't lose you, "I am nothing if not unnecessary," His voice croaked, crackling as his hardware threatened to break. 

He was going to lose you anyway. 

The truth stared him in the face metaphorically, for the one one who he could see now was the former Royal Guard. His eyes stayed open, focused on the wall behind her even as she began speaking, "Hey, punk, it's okay. That you went all crazy and stuff, you're still a total jackass for, y'know. Being a jackass." His eyes slid over to stare into hers. A sad frown tilted her lips, and her eyes were full of concern. "The fight was actually kind of cool. It was fun. No one got seriously hurt, unless, uh," Her eyes roved over his form as she trailed off. "Are you?" 

The data report his sensors and scanners were giving him was longer than his body, his soul was in pain from the hard hit it took, and his emotions felt torn and shredded as his heart broke. He wasn't even aware he had a heart. Maybe it was his soul, the keeper of his hopes and dreams, that was suffering and not this human idea of a heart, but he liked to think he had one. You had one. 

A moaning sob nearly erupted from his mouth at the thought of your heartbeat, the song you played exclusively for him that he would never hear again. His heartache came out in the form of a robotic groan, his sensors forcing him to release some sort of a reply as a response to the report they were shoving almost literally down his throat. His voice fizzled out as one of his many broken wires collapsed on the other, pain surging through him now as his sensors failed to keep it at bay. "Oh, uh, guess so, huh?" 

He tried again, "Darling, don't look at me. Darling," His voice died in his throat as a chunk of metal from inside fell, clanging to the bottom and cutting several wires on the way down. "D-d-aah..Err.....Lih...Ngh.." The controls concerning speech and language were giving out, and he was feeling more and more like an empty metal husk with every second that passed. With the sensation of pain came feeling you tighten your grip on his arm, and he wished you would just give up. 

The stars know he had. 

You were going to leave him.

He had lost you.


	27. Then

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ****One year and ten months after the breakup****

Dating a star had its perks, and dating _your_ star _definitely_ had its perks. While some were after stars for their shine and the trails of money that followed it, you had fallen for his structure. Inside, he was a beautiful monster, and it reflected throughout your relationship with him. He had offered the stability that you almost desperately needed, kindness, emotional security, and had become a source of immense comfort for you. 

While some believed Mettaton had no discernible personality, aside from the vibrant glow he put on for the cameras, you knew otherwise. Beneath the metal husk most refused to look under was a monster capable of more love than any human could you knew. After the year the two of you had invested in one another, you were sure the monster in front of you was your soulmate. No phantom kiss or lingering contact could convince you otherwise. Memories of Sans could not lead you away from your beloved Mettaton, no matter how vivid their touches may be.

"Fight me." You teased, your face frozen in an expression that would not give your words away. Dating a star had its perks, and becoming a near professional actor was one of them. He gazed back at you, clearly amused. His smile was polite, prepared for any cameras that would turn your way, and you had no doubt that there were already a few trained on the two of you. His fingers were firmly clasped around your shoulders as he moved you, leading as the two of you made your way across the dance floor. His head cocked slightly, and the smile that tugged at his lips grew more mischievous. You had learned early on that Alphys had pulled no stops in trying to make Mettaton's form as fluid as her own, and in turn, his body was as functioning as yours in terms of movement and fluidity. 

His soft hum echoed in the small space between you two, his eyebrow lifting slightly as he regarded you curiously. "Fight you?" You nodded slightly, the movement being imperceptible to the untrained eye, and would not be caught on film. "Oh, darling," His voice sounded as though it did not come from his lips, and the underlying tone threatened to force you to lose composure. "I'd rather not." 

He hadn't said anything inappropriate, but you knew what he would have added if you both were not in public. Maybe he could have found a way to add it in, your Mettaton had ways around things like that, but he didn't. You felt a small burning rise to your cheeks and Mettaton turned you so that your back was facing the cameras he knew were there. 

The two of you were dressed in elegant tuxedos, something the media no longer found odd, not with how often you had worn similar attire in public both with Mettaton and without. Your tuxedo was blacker than the inky sky outside, an almost neon pink button up beneath the coat, and a black tie sitting atop that. Your trousers were as dark as your coat, as were your oxford shoes. Mettaton was dressed similarly, though his attire was much shinier than yours. 

A bright flash surrounded the two of you, neither of you being phased by this as you continued to dance. By the time the artificial light had died out, your blush was gone and your jaw was set in practiced control, no emotion other than happiness, which bled into your eyes regardless of what you did to chase it away, showing on your face. Mettaton's own features had died down to an almost neutral, but not even he could wipe his happiness, which showed in his smile, from his face. 

His voice purred again, a deep rumble that snagged at your heart and sent lewd thoughts shooting through you. "I'll _fight_ you when we're at home. You should be careful, though, darling. If you tempt me too much with your cute face, I might just have to steal you away," He scolded, or, tried to. Your eyes shut and your chin lowered slightly, the hand entwined with Mettaton's tightening as you squeezed gently. He was too much. Even when he tried to be inappropriate, he came across as positively adorable. 

The song ended, and another one began. Bows slid against strings as the sounds of violas and cellos reigned over the silence, not allowing a moment to pass by without the sound. The two of you chased the night away in disguised affection and enough acting skill to win another Oscar for one of Mettaton's trophy cases. By the time the two of you had left the ball, a passionate flame was oozing in your chest and no camera could eat up your words, no reporter could twist them. You didn't speak enough for them to do so. Mettaton usually did the talking, anyway. 

You were swept up in thought, your arm looped through your boyfriend's, that contact being the only thing that even remotely grounded you. Your elation was threatening to drag you literally to cloud nine, and if you focused hard enough, you could swear that you were hovering instead of walking. You were trying to think about how everything had fallen, only to lead to this beautiful night, this beautiful life. What had previously been the worst day of your life had morphed into the beginning of the best years of your life, and you were excited to continue the track record you currently had on record with happiness. 

Your head tilted and you noticed the sky above. Mettaton followed your gaze, but it quickly dropped back to you. "I would ask how you could be enthralled by the stars right now, but I suppose you do not have a mirror to look upon the marvelous sight I am gifted with," Out of view of any cameras, your blush stormed onto your face, relentlessly burning your skin. "And might I add just how _marvelous_ it is?" 

Your boyfriend leaned towards you, lips brushing against your cheeks as he guided you to the limousine. Your lips pursed, "You're such a tease." He shrugged, pulling his arm away from yours to place a hand firmly on your back. His left hand reached out and signaled to a man standing near the hood of the car, who promptly rushed over and snatched the handle. You shot a thankful smile to him for opening the door, and you slipped inside. Mettaton verbally expressed his gratitude, joining you in the car soon after. 

"So, my darling," You smiled at Mettaton, his affectionate purr sending shock waves that rocked your core. "I apologize that we had to end our time together so soon after it began. I had an extravagant day planned for you," You smiled, shaking your head at him. 

"You told me, babe, and I told you, it's okay. There are some things you can't cancel, but I'm glad we got to spend the morning together," 

The two of you had been mostly absent from each others lives for the last two weeks, you busy with your extensive training, provided by one of your close friends, Undyne, and his schedule was loaded with activity after activity. It had been hard to only see your beloved once a day for less than a minute each time, but when you wandered downstairs this morning to find him in the midst of laying out a small pillow fort for you, it had eased the pain a smidgen. And when he lead you to breakfast after watching a few non-Mettaton related shows? 

Your heart soared as you recollected the feelings you had felt, still feel. 

Mettaton pouted, arms crossing over his chest, "Still, I don't know when my schedule will lighten up, and with the race being so close, I doubt yours will anytime soon." 

You leaned forward as the car began to pull away from where it had been parked, your hands pulling at his arms until they separated. Leaning up so that you could reach his lips, a feat easier said than done for your lover dwarfed you in height even when sitting, you kissed him. The contact send shivers down your spine and goosebumps rose on your skin in response, despite the stifling heat of your suit. "We'll make time, I promise," 

His gaze was so full of love, you didn't care if you never heard those three words pass his lips. You flashed your teeth at him in a wide smile, closing the distance between you two once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been in my drafts since Chapter 5   
> I had to tweak it a little bit, but I think it fits? I hope so 
> 
> <3 <3 <3


	28. Now

You stared at your Mettaton as his mechanics began to shut down, his voice fizzling and dying. The sound tore into your heart as though it had been you, instead of Mettaton, who had been injured. In some ways, you supposed you were. The aching that had crept onto your heart and latched on was familiar, you had dealt with a similar betrayal before. 

Looking up, you scanned the room, finding Sans talking with Toriel. The taller skeleton looked tired, but other than that, he looked as he always had. His trademark jacket was pulled taut against his rib cage, the fabric stretching around a middle you knew he didn't have. He had traded his baggy shorts for pajama pants that hung low on his hips, his hands constantly reaching to pull them up before they slipped too low. His feet were covered with tan socks that sat inside rough pink slippers, and his posture was as hunched as it usually was. 

You wanted to know what was going on. You wanted to know what Mettaton had done. You couldn't hate the robot, though. You loved him too much. You could severely dislike his actions, whatever they may be, but you couldn't hate him. Perhaps you could not be certain of that fact, you were still at a loss concerning the actions that he had taken to lead you all to this moment, but in your heart, which was much too large and caring, you knew you wouldn't hate him. 

You didn't look down at Mettaton, his broken husk of a body warding your gaze off more than his request had. That body was not the one belonging to the Mettaton you knew and loved, just as that dying voice, hoarse with grief and pain, wasn't. You'd like to imagine that his previous actions did not belong to him either, or that he had changed, but you had heard Undyne's words as she read off of the pamphlet Mettaton had made. Whatever he had done before, he was preparing to do it again. 

No, you couldn't hate Mettaton. Similarly, you couldn't hate Sans. 

You didn't know what had occurred behind your back, but Sans had seemed shocked to learn about Mettaton's deception, almost more than yourself. You didn't hate Sans for dumping you that terribly dry day, and in hindsight, you couldn't hate him for not trusting you enough to clear away Mettaton's lies by asking you. You were miffed, incredibly pissed at the both of them, but you were too forgiving to hate them. "Hey, kid," You looked up, your eyes meeting Undyne's. She looked almost terrified, gaze dropping from Mettaton and rising to you, repeating the process over and over again as she spoke. It was clear Mettaton was still looking into her eyes, though. Her eyes never searched anywhere on him that was not his face. "Are you okay?" 

The question sent a surge through your body, energy you did not have motivating you to move. As if to a beat only you could hear, you rose and stepped out from against the wall, your toes brushing against Mettaton's arm, which you had dropped before moving, before you separated yourself from him. You had gotten your last rest with him. The thought shook your core and nearly forced tears to your eyes, but the rhythm of this invisible song was too strong. You didn't answer her, you should have but instead you raced towards the stairs, jumping up the first three before her voice called out to you again. 

"*****, what are you doing?" 

The song momentarily paused, you sent a chilling glare across your shoulder, directed at more the house than Undyne. "I'm going to go pack." 

You witnessed Mettaton jerk at your words, lips moving as though he wanted to protest. Undyne glanced at him before returning her skeptical gaze to your form, "Uh, okay. Are you okay?" 

You ignored her question again, the song starting up and you began to move to meet the drum of it, "I don't have much stuff, I'll be down shortly." In your peripheral vision, you could see both Sans and Toriel staring at you with the same quizzical look plastered on Undyne's face, but you rushed up the stairs anyway. 

You bounded passed room after room before settling on the fourth one on the left. Pushing the door with your shoulder after twisting the knob, you collapsed inside. 

Falling to your hands and knees dramatically, you allowed the tears to fall. With your foot, you kicked the door shut and kept it there so that it would act as a miniature barrier should anyone try to enter the room. "No," You gasped, your heart tugging relentlessly, "I'm not okay." The declaration sent another wave of dread, the intensity of it forcing more tears to fall from your eyes as you gathered yourself so that you sat on your haunches. Your breath came out in tiring shudders, the liquid protruding from your eyes proving as evidence of your internal turmoil. 

Betrayed twice in three years. Three years, two months. You would have liked to confirm that your heart had healed after Sans, and it had with the help of Mettaton, but this new wound cut deep enough to rip open old scars. Pressing a hand firm against your chest, you tried to knock a fist into where your heart was, wanting desperately to stop the flow of tears. They ceased on their own, final droplets draining down your face after a few minutes. 

You stood slowly and began to drag yourself to the closet in the room. It was the space you had inhabited before Mettaton insisted you move your belongings into his bedroom, but you kept your suitcases in the room, figuring you would never need them again. 

Teeth clenching, you thought about just how wrong you were. 

Your fingers felt cold as they tugged at the closet door. You grabbed at the luggage hidden within the closet, pulling all four suitcases until they rested beside you. Upon seeing your odd boxes and misshapen bags, Mettaton had gifted you with these tan leather containers, with the premise that you would be able to use them for traveling should you decide to escape the country. You hadn't touched them since he gave them to you, not even when you ran out of space for your belongings whenever you and Mettaton left your home for one of his interviews, screenings, or live performances. 

Clutching their handles in your grasp, you wheeled them out of the room, not bothering to shut either the closet or the room door as you stepped closer to your destination. The door to your room was already ajar from when you had left it much earlier, and so you didn't have to release your hold on any of the suitcases as you pushed it so it stood open a bit wider. Walking inside, you fought back the urge to cry again, feet pounding too loudly as you marched further into the room. 

Setting the suitcases down by your side, you maneuvered around the room wordlessly, sifting through drawers and closets until you had all of your stuff within range. Like you had told Undyne, it wasn't much, but it was still a great deal more than you had coming into the home for the first time. You dragged everything closer, dropping onto your knees and allowing your fingers to grasp at clothing and fold them. You looked away from your task, hands still working almost automatically, and stared into the window across from you. 

Sunlight was pouring through the curtains, which hung almost ominously to the side. It was perhaps eight or nine, and for a January morning, the sun seemed almost too eager to shroud the world in its warmth. A grimace fell onto your lips as you realized that today, like three years prior, was a day that had unfitting weather for the events. You pressed your clothing into the first two suitcases, packing in the objects in the third and fourth. It was a tight squeeze, and by the time you were finished, you still had one more thing that absolutely would not fit. 

Your fingers bumped against the polished wood, eyes falling numbly to trace the image kept within the picture frame. Your face was nearly emotionless, and it did not fit your mood at all. Inside, your heart was wreaking havoc on your insides, stomach feeling as though it was going to turn up on the floor beside you and grueling shivers sparking down your skin. Your fingers trembled terribly, the only thing aside from your trembling that gave away your emotions physically. 

The picture was of you and Mettaton, his arms wrapped around your middle and face leaning towards yours. Your eyes were closed in anticipation, completely missing the affection held within Mettaton's facial features, but the camera didn't. He looked at you in the exact way he looked at himself, adoring and forever loving. 

You turned the picture over and shoved it in one of the suitcases holding clothing, vowing to yourself to hide it away the first chance you got. Zipping all of the suitcases shut, you gathered them in your hands again, striding towards the door. The weight was heavy, but after your training with Undyne, it was like lifting a bag of tomatoes. 

You cast one last sorrowful glance into your bedroom. Former bedroom now, you supposed. The sheets were ruffled from when you had charged out of them, and a pillow sat dangerously close to the edge, threatening to fall onto the floor at the slightest movement. The room was spotless and bright, the sunlight chasing the shadows to the farthest corner of the room, forcing your bed to be wrapped in the inky patches. You turned your head away from it, dropping your luggage only to shut the door behind you. The click held an eerie sense of finality, and it bit into your heart. 

You knew it had taken a long time for you to pack up your belongings. Much longer than the original "Shortly" you had promised Undyne earlier. You didn't care. 

Your feet thudded down the stairs, your arms holding the heavy leather bags up so they did not crash onto the stairs and scuff the wood. You noticed that almost no one was in the foyer, the only inhabitant being Mettaton. He was pressed against the wall, head hanging over his lap and shoulders slumped. The sight burned at your heart, but you only furrowed your brows and pressed on until you had stepped off of the last step. Placing the suitcases beside the banister, you turned and started away from the robot, ignoring your heart as it begged you to go to him. 

His voice did not crackle into the air, but you heard the scrape of metal on metal as he tried to speak. You didn't turn back to look at him, walking out of the room and into the familiar halls. 

Undyne plodded to your side a moment later, appearing from nowhere. Her voice was rugged with that usual boyish sound, and you could tell she wanted to again as you if you were alright, but she didn't. "So, you're leaving him?" 

"Is that even a question?" You trained your focus onto her, still following the sounds coming from the kitchen. Sans and Toriel were in there, you knew, but apparently in the time spent packing, Alphys had joined your small group. The tiny dinosaur-like woman could be heard faintly, and considering how far you were from the kitchen, that must mean her voice was raised a great deal more than its normal hushed tone. You wanted to add something else, but Undyne's silence cut you off, and you faced forward again. 

With every step farther away from your love, it felt as though another piece of your heart was being ripped from you. With every room you passed, a flood of memories tugged at the corners of your mind, pleading for attention. With every word left unspoken, a thousand more burned into your thoughts. 

When the two of you were nearing the kitchen, Undyne spoke again, "Who are you going to stay with?" You shrugged, informing her that you would find a hotel or something. At that, she interjected heartily, "What are you talking about, punk? Don't be a loser! Me and my Animyba-er..Me and Alphys can totally take you in! We have a few extra rooms that nobody is using, anyway!" A wide grin flashed onto her features, revealing nearly all of her teeth as she tilted her head back, eyes closing in what had to be the most anime smile you had ever seen. The nerd. 

You bumped her with your shoulder, "Thank you, but isn't that a bit much? I can't imagine that you planned for this outcome,"

To this, she only replied with the most anime laugh sequence you had ever witnessed, besting even the most anime of animes. Her head tossed back comically, hands gripping onto her waist as she leaned back. Laughter spilled from her lips in a wet guffaw before her left hand raised from its position, slapping your shoulder affectionately, "You loser! What are best friends for?" 

You hesitated in your next step for a moment, a charming smile riddling your lips as you momentarily forgot about your heartache. It came back seconds later, but that heartbeat of happiness was beautiful. "Thanks, Undyne. I love you, nerd." 

She brought a hand to her chest in faux hurt, "Nerd? Coming from a loser!"


	29. *then

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (I think it was clear earlier that the *then and *now's are Sans POV but just in case)   
> Sans POV  
> ****Two months before the breakup****

Sans let out a throaty hum, pressing his spine more into your chest as he reclined to look up at the stars. A goofy smile stuck to his teeth, near tangible gooey affection dripping from his eyes, the pupils of which had long since morphed into small digital hearts. Your hands were wrapped around his middle, gliding against his ribs through his clothing. Occasionally, your fingers would dip in between the spaces, causing him to jerk forward and a deep blush cascading across his cheekbones, but you didn't do it often. 

His hands stayed firm on the ground beside his hipbones for another one of your heartbeats before he curled them into his lap, phalanges entwining and body moving back even further. You let out a soft hum, the sensation reverberating through his spine and sending shivers down his spine, before leaning back yourself. You didn't sit back very far, enough so that you had to move one of your hands from his stomach to rest behind you for support, but not very far. 

Your chin, which had previously sat atop his skull, rose as you turned your gaze to the heavens. From your mouth came a series of soft clicks and hums, the sounds beating in time with whenever your eyes traced over a new constellation. "*breathtaking, huh?" 

You nodded, chin scraping against his skull gently with each bob. You stopped after three, the stars capturing your attention once more. A sly smile replaced the goofy one, and his voice breached through the air again, "*guess you could say it's unbe _breath_ able?" He felt your glare, and without having to turn, could tell that you were scowling. His smile only widened at that. One of his hands left his lap to fit into yours, the right hand that still toyed with his ribs. Slipping his phalanges in between yours, a content sigh escaped passed his lips, the gesture of which you returned three of your heartbeats later. 

Something must have lured the thought to the forefront of your mind, because you randomly exhaled, "I love you, my skies," A harsh cobalt rose to his cheekbones as he took in your breathy rasp, the sound filling his head and full of promises of lasting effects. 

Knowing this little game from the first time he had whispered those three words to you several months ago, Sans enthusiastically started the next line, "*and i love you, my stars," 

Your face pressed into the back of his skull, lips lining across the smooth bone and threatening to drive him crazy. Those tender pieces of flesh caressed his bone as you talked, nerves on fire from both your voice and the sensations joining it, "But not as much as I love you, my sun," 

"*the sun is still but a star, my galaxy," 

"That may be so, but I still love you more, my universe," 

Elation rose within Sans' chest as he spoke the next line. It was not from the original moment in which the lines were first spoken, but he had a feeling you would appreciate it nonetheless. "*of which my love could fill two of, my love," 

Just as he had suspected, a delicious purr ran from your throat as you nuzzled into his skull, soft kisses dancing from your lips to the bone. Nearly trembling with happiness, Sans turned in your hold so that he could gaze upon you directly, your face startlingly, but not unpleasantly, close to his. His fingers disentangled from yours as both hands rose, phalanges pressing into your cheek before grasping the back of your head firmly. 

You stuck out your tongue as he closed the distance. While you had been unsure of the sanitation of the kiss he had taught you at first, you had moved passed it after some time, and had even began to instigate the contact without his prompting. 

Your tongue glided across his teeth, nose wrinkling in muted concern as you brought the muscle back into your mouth to make way for him as he pressed closer, teeth hard against your lips. He pulled away for a minute, his voice intense as he whispered to you, "*my love," again and again. He brought his forehead close so that it tapped against yours, his eyes closing as he continued to chant those two words until you finally grew tired of that contact and leaned forward for more. 

Your hands lifted to clutch at his t-shirt, him having discarded the jacket to the side well before the two of you settled on the grass. Your fingers rubbed at the knobs of his spine, and he had to pull away to gasp, back arching into your touch as he sharply inhaled. His pupils darted to you, their bright light shining enough to illuminate patches of your skin. A delectable blush was stained onto your cheeks, a heady emotion strained into your eyes, and your tongue was gliding across your lips in a way that excited him like nothing else. Still, it was not those, but the husky tone of your voice as you spoke that drew him even closer, him eagerly closing the gap between you two to instigate further contact. The words burned into his mind, your voice still dancing around his skull even as his teeth pressed to your lips and your fingers clung to his clothing. 

"My love,"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;l


	30. Now

Your feet sounded unnaturally loud as they stomped onto the vinyl flooring. Your clenched your toes, drawing them uncomfortably close together as if they had all been stubbed on a sharp edge, and you supposed in a way they had been. The first thing you did after walking into your temporary home was walk into a wall, and immediately into another one trying to separate from the first wall. Undyne still wasn't done giggling, nearly three hours later. 

You sidled up to her, your left elbow resting on the counter and eyes trained on the pot in front of her. The stove was turned up to a temperature that was most definitely going to burn the sauce within the metal, but if Undyne minded, she didn't make a move to show you that she did. A lackadaisical smile twisted your lips, though the both of you knew it was more for show than for actual happiness. You were too weary for that. 

Undyne and Alphys lived in a modest home, considering the caliber of both the scientist and the personal trainer, both of which were paid a great deal for their jobs. Their home was two stories high, four less than Mettaton's had been, containing mainly just the basics. There was a kitchen, obviously, though there was no foyer. The front door was connected to the living room, the back of said living space holding the only staircase that lead upstairs. Across the hall from the kitchen sat the living room, the hall in between leading to a set of small bathrooms, a laundry room, and one spare room. The aforementioned room was yours, though a fraction of what yours had been even before sharing a space with Mettaton, it was absolutely lovely. 

The staircase connecting the downstairs from the up was a small winding one, and the upstairs was almost just as unremarkable. There were two more bedrooms down the hall, a larger bathroom connected to the largest of the two rooms, though it, surprisingly, did not belong to neither Alphys nor Undyne. There was a spare closet placed almost inconveniently close to the staircase, but aside from that, the upstairs was bare. Its soft tan carpet and white walls were dull and almost boring, if it wasn't for the occasional sticky note containing love notes adorning various spots on both the wall and the carpet from where they had fallen. The domestic air surrounding upstairs was calming and held an alluring sense of welcoming. 

The downstairs was almost as sedative in nature, if it wasn't for the constant rumbling of washers and dryers, the insistent low drone of a large television, and Undyne's frantic splashing as she stirred the sauce much too wildly. Still, the atmosphere in either stories made you smile, already feeling as though you were home despite not being in the house for more than three hours. 

Your phone was a constant reminder of what you had left behind, though. It had buzzed for the entirety of the first hour before you turned the settings to silent, but even then, the phantom vibrations stirred your leg, causing it to jostle restlessly, and the constant notifications lighting up your screen caught your eye, drawing your gaze to where you had casually thrown the device to the counter during the second hour. 

Before leaving Mettaton's that final time, having to make two trips, one to carry your luggage and one to bid farewell to the staff who had catered you so lovingly for the past three years, you had sent out a Tweet briefly detailing how Mettaton had broken up with you. You were not bitter, nor were you cruel, and you knew the media would swallow him whole in his incomplete state should you reveal that you had been the one to, while wordlessly and without any communication between the two of you, end the relationship. Being in a relationship with the famous robot had garnered you quite a bit of attention, both in person and online, and your fans were rampant in their attempts to either sway you to go back to Mettaton and apologize for whatever "You" had done, or to tell you that you were better off, anyway. 

Through the latter, your faith in humanity was constantly restored, though it hadn't wavered much in the last few years, and you were assured that you had the best fans in the world. Their support was almost tangible through their effort to cheer you up, and you often caught yourself smiling whenever you did attend to the hundreds of replies and responses. They really were absolute dears. 

Drawing away from your thoughts, you focused on Undyne's mashing, wanting to assure her that there were no chunks in the pre-prepared soup, but knowing that this was her coping mechanism, you kept your mouth shut. Alphys had opted to stay behind and help Mettaton with his mechanical structure, it having faulted after your..er..Violent actions. The dinosaur had promised to update every half hour or so, but her little texts had become sporadic in nature, the last one being received well over an hour ago. 

Your best friend grunted none-too-softly, the mixing spoon smashing against the bottom of the pan with a resounding clang. She eased her hands away from the splintering wood, her fists coming to rest by the seam of her trousers. She cast you an odd glance, the expression caught between loathing you knew was not directed at you and intense frustration. You offered a smile, of which she unwillingly returned, before speaking, "Are you sure this isn't too much?" 

Your head spread out before you, fingers pointing to every corner of the medium-sized kitchen before splaying out awkwardly in front of you, you were idle and uncertain of what to do next with them. Undyne switched her eyes back to the soup before directing them back at you, a quizzical tint holding fast to her gaze. "The soup?" She asked, right hand reaching out again for the wooden spoon, which was really beginning to look like the last thing it needed was to be handled by the monster again. You made a mental note to check for potentially dangerous wooden fragments later, promising to warn Alphys should she choose to eat tonight. 

Should she choose to come home tonight, you thought briefly. 

Shaking your head, you clarified, "No, me staying. I can afford a hotel room, and for a while, too." 

Undyne mirrored your earlier action, her ponytail whipping around as she rapidly shook her head. Mood clearly lifted, her startlingly loud voice caused you to jump lightly, "Are you kidding, punk? You're totally Gucci, yo!" You really wished she hadn't discovered the internet. "We, Alphys and I, want you here! Wouldn't'a offered if we didn't! Stop being such a loser, just be chill with it because you are so staying for a while!" 

Her affectionate tone of voice, while booming in volume, brought a smile to your lips. You still felt as though a good few hours, perhaps maybe months, curled in the bed sheets would bring you more comfort, but you knew this would bring you more healing. Besides, your covers, pillows, and clothing were all undergoing an intense and thorough washing, all smelling too much like Mettaton when you began to store them away. How a robot had a distinctive smell, you did not know, but you did know that it brought wracking pain to course through your veins, flood your nerves, and burn at your heart. 

Hobbling into your sheets and crippling your physical fitness by staying in bed for a few months, maybe years, could wait.

Your smile strained at the edges after Undyne turned to face the now bubbling and strangely viscous liquid, before drooping all together. Who would have guessed that thinking about the love of your life would have such negative effects? 

The light of your phone was constant as more notifications bobbled through, but you couldn't bring yourself to look at them. While few in numbers, those responses that almost begged you to return to your place beside Mettaton always irked your heart when spotted, and you had a feeling you didn't need that right now. 

Your stomach gurgled, announcing the presence of your hunger, and you sheepishly smiled at Undyne as she swiveled her head in your direction. "It's almost done," Her volume had quieted considerably, her having no doubt picked up on your sudden drop of mood. "Wanna go explore a bit more? I don't think you saw the garage yet," Truthfully, you had explored the house in so much depth, you felt fairly confident that you could navigate it almost as easily as you could Mettaton's, but you relented. You hadn't seen the garage yet, actually, not exiting through the metal door sitting on you far left. 

You wandered over to it, sending one last glance over to Undyne. She gave a kind smile, her elbow nudging forward and gesturing for you to enter. You dropped the faux smile as soon as the doorknob twisted, entering the rather large space with ease. 

Workout equipment dominated the first half of the garage, which was almost as large as Undyne and Alphys' living room. Benches, weights, bars, everything yours had lacked sat within the space. You never needed to go out and buy such things, having a gym already installed in the large home shared with Mettaton, so your personal workout room was almost always bare, saved for competitions and, you supposed, the odd dancing sessions. 

You wondered where the two of you would hold those competitions, now. It wasn't likely that you would return to Mettaton's to run the familiar course. 

You sauntered over to the middle of the room, standing on your tip toes to reach the too-high chain connected to the light. Tugging it down gently, you were shocked at how well the single bulb did away with the various shadows creeping in the room, the light pouring over almost the entirety of the room and leaving the very far corners dark. You turned around to study the garage a bit better, feeling as though you were intruding. 

The space was in no way dingy, even the floors sparkled with an unnatural cleanliness. The car, sat close to the garage door connecting to the outside world, was in pristine condition and shone brightly from the artificial light. It was a sleek sports car, mirroring the model you had seen Papyrus drive before, though a deep sea green in color instead of the sunlit red Papyrus had painted it last summer. The edges of the car were slick with designs that gave off the idea that the car was covered in sea foam, and you couldn't help but find it charming. 

"It's done, punk!" Undyne yelped from inside, and you instinctively grabbed your pocket for your phone, the phantom vibrations twitching at your leg uncomfortably. Before your fingers had poked into your pocket, you remembered leaving it by Undyne on the counter and hoped that that wasn't a drastic mistake. You'd had to call the company the last time she messed with your device, purposefully locking you out for as long as she could. 

You stood for a moment, a shocking feeling swiping its way across your heart as you took in the unwavering affection in Undyne's voice. Though harsh in tone and volume, it betrayed how much she cared for you, even when she was yelling. 

You made your way over to the door joining the living room and the kitchen, hand poised to grab at the doorknob before you again turned your head, this time casting a quick glance at the space behind you. Upon noticing that you had left the light on, you immediately rushed down the three short steps, jumping this time, instead of rising to your tip toes, and snagging the chain down. The room was immediately shroud in shadows and inky darkness that disguised the actual time. 

In that darkness, you reminded yourself that your decision to leave was sound, and a very good decision actually. You would be speaking with Sans in a few days to discuss what had gone on three years ago, not feeling ready to talk about it when he had brought it up earlier. That would cement your decision, though after the theatrics this morning, you knew you wouldn't actually need it. It was still nice to have backup and confirmation, though. Plus, that worrying question of " _Why?_ " which had been eating away at you for three years would finally be answered, and you would be lying if you said it wasn't exciting, though terrifying. 

You'd always hoped to get an answer, though you'd never imagined your beloved would be at the heart of the issue. 

Abandoning the harrowing thoughts, and wishing you could do the same with the treacherous emotions rocking through you, you bounded up the smaller steps, not hesitating to push open the door and join your friend in the kitchen.


	31. Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little note to Sapling_Ghoul for writing such an amazing thing that it makes me want to cry. Their writing is so beautiful, I am absolutely in love with it. Cerulean Rain is one of my favorite Sans x Reader fics now, despite only having just been introduced to it yesterday. It kept me up for a little under half an hour last night, I could not stop reading it. It as so perfect <3 <3 <3!
> 
> I have a lot of amazing stories saved in my bookmarks, but please check out this one! There's NSFW properties to it, but it is the most beautiful thing. 
> 
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/5691196/chapters/13109686  
> \--

You dove for the covers, legs tangling with the fabric once they slid beneath them. Your arms were next to dip under the sheets as you tugged yourself into the large bundle of soft material, and your head disappeared into it soon after. 

Just as you'd promised yourself, the very moment your items were through the dryer after having been washed no less than six times, though in the case of the bed sheets eight times served to rid the smell of Mettaton entirely, you dragged yourself into the room and huddled on the bed. You had draped your body with more covers and sheets than you needed, sweating up a storm more often than not because of it. Thoroughly wrapped in your thick, soft cocoon, you didn't come out for days. Today was only the second day in nearly two weeks that Undyne was able to force you out of your temporary room. 

The contents of your stomach stirred and rustled at the intense speed of your actions, and coupled with the heated warmth of all eight heavy covers and three thinner, though not by much, blankets, you felt as though you were going to be sick. The spaghetti sat well before, when you were eating it, but it was determined on committing a full on mutiny soon. Your stomach gurgled and rumbled uncomfortably, the sensation causing you to huddle even further into your all-too-warm cavern, only furthering your stomach's distress. 

From outside the cocoon, you could hear your phone dinging, and if you squinted at your left hard enough, you could see the light accompanying the sound. You had set the device to its highest brightness setting, to as loud as it would go, and had turned off all buttons that prohibited any sound or movement coming from the phone. Vibrations off and sound fully on, the bleeps and dings reverberated off of the walls and into your heated sanctuary, the noise cruel and awful. 

You were the one who ensured that you could hear every notification as it passed, you really shouldn't have felt as though the device had a vendetta against you. But you did. 

Your dominant hand peeked out of the covers to draw it closer after a few minutes, the sound only seeming to intensify with every minute you let it be, though you knew that wasn't the case. Sliding the phone into your would-be safe haven, though the heat was quickly becoming too much, and too much was not safe. You clicked the home button and scrolled through. 

It took all of five minutes, and probably over that, to get to the bottom. A vast majority of the notifications from Twitter and other social media sights, though there were several dozen texts from your friends and family who wanted to know if you were alright, or to try and convince you to go back to your love. You ignored both, the latter gaining a bit more attention as you glared at each message. 

Two message threads caught your attention, though. The contents of the second one cut at your heart terribly, almost as much as seeing that name pop up. The first one was a mystery, the unknown number staring at you, and you decided to pay attention to that one first. 

**-hey- Unknown Number 5:26pm** You grimaced, knowing it probably wasn't smart to reply, but you did it anyway. Your fingers dashed across the keyboard, thumb pressing against the Send button a little too hard. 

**-Hello- ___-___-____ 5:26pm** They wasted no time in replying, giving you no space to turn to the other message thread that had caught your attention, not that you minded. 

**-how are you- Unknown Number 5:26pm**

**-How are you?- ___-___-____ 5:27pm**

**-okay. you didn't answer my question though- Unknown Number 5:27pm**

**-I could be better. I've had a rough couple of days- ___-___-____ 5:29pm**

**-haha same. you okay?- Unknown Number 5:29pm**

**-I guess. I'm covered in more blankets than I need, and am probably overheating as we speak, so I could be worse- ___-___-____ 5:31pm**

**-sounds like fun. it's cold outside, so it's _ice_ to hear that your warm- Unknown Number 5:32pm** Your fingers froze, not daring to tap at the screen until you evaluated the text further. It couldn't have been Sans, you had his number saved, though under a very unflattering "ExSkell" contact name. It, like the joke in front of your eyes, was a pun, Sans having worked with Microsoft for a short while before settling for much simpler jobs. 

Perhaps whomever was texting you had simply mistyped? Yes, you nodded to yourself, head brushing against the top of your cocoon. It was a mistake. 

**-Yeah, it's pretty nice- ___-___-____ 5:36pm**

**-you're not gonna comment about the pun?- Unknown Number 5:36pm** Okay, maybe not a mistake. 

**-I thought maybe you had forgotten the N on Nice- ___-___-____ 5:37pm**

**-nah, but it's _cool_ that you gave be the benefit of the doubt- Unknown Number 5:37pm**

**-Was that also a pun- ___-___-____ 5:28pm**

**-maybe- Unknown Number 5:29pm**

**-yes- Unknown Number 5:29pm**

**-Nice. So, can I ask who you are?- ___-___-____ 5:30pm**

**-oh. yeah, i got a new number. i guess i forgot to mention that- Unknown Number 5:30pm**

**-sans- Unknown Number 5:30pm**

**-it's sans- Unknown Number 5:30pm** Your heart caught in your throat, but you shucked off the feeling. 

**-Oh, I didn't know I was speaking with you Sans- ___-___-____ 5:31pm**

**-no- Unknown Number 5:31pm**

**-you are not going to go all formal on me just because it's me- Unknown Number 5:32pm**

**-Sorry, sorry. I'm not used to talking to you at all, let alone informally- ___-___-____ 5:35pm**

**-ouch- Unknown Number 5:35pm**

**-jk. i getcha.- Unknown Number 5:35pm** You resolved to change that second-to-last bit of information, clicking on the title given to the "Unknown" number and giving a proper name to it. 

**-So, what's up?- ___-___-____ 5:39pm**

**-not much, texting someone. wanna hear a joke- ExSkell1 5:40pm**

**-I guess, sure- ___-___-____ 5:41pm**

**-knock knock or?- ExSkell1 5:41pm**

**-Who's there, of- ___-___-____ 5:42pm**

**-no- ExSkell1 5:42pm**

**-like- ExSkell1 5:42pm**

**-do you want it to be a knock knock joke or something else- ExSkell1 5:43pm**

**-charming of you to try and mirror it, though- ExSkell1 5:44pm**

**-I try- ___-___-____ 5:45pm**

**-How about a pun? Yours used to be funny- ___-___-____ 5:45pm**

**-used to?- ExSkell1 5:45pm**

**-excuse you, sir, they still are- ExSkell1 5:46pm**

**-and always will be- ExSkell1 5:46pm**

**-anyway, what topic of pun. like, oceans or dogs or what?- ExSkell1 5:46pm**

**-We're really getting into depth here, aren't we?- ___-___-____ 5:47pm**

**-ye- ExSkell1 5:47pm**

**-Um..I can't think of a topic, sorry. Anything will work- ___-___-____ 5:48pm**

**-no need to apologize, no _bones_ about it- ExSkell1 5:48pm **

**-That was awful- ___-___-____ 5: 49pm**

**-rough crowd- ExSkell1 5:49pm**

You sat back, wobbling to regain your seated stature. You had been texting Sans for nearly half an hour now, completely neglecting the other message thread. You were going to persist in that endeavor and continue to ignore it, but your phone brightened terribly as someone called you. The name flashing on the screen burned you, but you were weak emotionally right now, and slid the Accept button and pressed the phone to your ear. 

" _Darling_ ," A voice rasped, thick with something unidentifiable, but you were certain that it was laced with surprise. 

Not wanting to drag out this impromptu call more than necessary, you curtly responded, "Is Alphys ready to come home?" The aforementioned monster had been by Mettaton's side since the day the two of you broke up, tirelessly working to restore his NEO form and help him return to the Ex. 

His purr came out crackled, and you weren't sure if his voice box was failing him, the connection was faulty, or if he really was as broken as he sounded. Either way, the sound ripped through your chest and tore at your heart, "Not yet, darling. Soon, though." 

His voice was the epitome of calm, though it popped and strained mercilessly. You allowed a smile to fade onto your face, Undyne would be so happy. Your best friend had worried endlessly at her missing girlfriend, and you suspected she was guilty of fleeing your home and leaving you to sulk while she went to visit Alphys. Not that you could really mind, when you settled in this sweaty mess it wasn't likely that you were coming out anytime soon. "Cool. So, is that all, or?" 

"No, darling, it isn't." You pursed your lips and asked him what he needed. " _You_ , darling. I need _you_." You began to protest his words, but the tone filling your ears cut you off quickly, "I miss you so much, my darling. Oh, _my_ darling, it hurts. I never needed sleep before, but I am so tired, rendered completely unable to rest unless you are by my side. You've ignored my messages, cancelled my calls, darling _please_." 

"Mettaton-!" 

" _Darling_ ," His voice rumbled over the speakers, and you bit your tongue so it did not betray you and respond with caring words. "I made a mistake, my love." 

"It wasn't a small mistake. It also wasn't a mistake if you did it on purpose." 

You could almost see him nodding, his metallic skin shuffling against the phone and causing uncomfortably loud brushing sounds to course through the speaker and into your ear. "Can we talk, darling? In person?" 

"No." Even you were surprised at the harsh tone embedded in that word. You could almost feel him flinch away, voice sounding far for a moment before drawing closer. 

"Darling-!" 

Closing your eyes to fight back tears, you responded, "No." You took a deep breath, gulping the life source like it was about to disappear forever. With how your chest was constricting and tightening, you didn't doubt that it would. "No. Not anytime soon, at least." 

His somber tone again flooded into your ear, leaving you an aching mess, "I understand. I'll wait until then, I'll wait forever if I have to. I love you, my darling. I love you, my stars," You froze at that, clutching the phone a little too tightly. Was he really so cruel as to tease you with titles _Sans_ had gifted your person? No, you decided, still believing he was somewhat of a good person. He was not cruel enough." 

"I'm going to hang up, now," You announce, not returning those three words. You wanted to, oh by the stars above did you want to, but you refrained. 

"I love you," His voice chocked out, was he sobbing? "I love you. Thank you for trying to save my career," You hummed in response. "I love you." 

You hung up before he could say anything further. The call was decently short, so you hoped Sans wouldn't question your absence, or if he did, wouldn't pursue the answer too much when you refused to give it. Deleting the unopened message from Mettaton, you tapped on the now familiar "ExSkell1" contact name, typing out your response. 

**-Bad jokes often do lead to a rough crowd- ___-___-____ 5:57pm**


	32. *now

The soft tap of bone against glass resounded within the small confines of his room, and Sans wished for something more. Some other sound to distract him away from the screen in front of him. The sound of his insistent typing was dull, reminding him of his own internal feuds as the war between his phalanges and the digital keyboard waged on. His thoughts surrounded him as much as the noise did, and he couldn't shrug them off for more than a soul beat before they came back, more vicious than ever each time. 

Truthfully, he felt like shit. 

His phone glowed in his hands, the light bouncing off of his cheekbones and illuminating his face. He typed sentence after sentence, deleting them over and over again. He told himself that he'd give up if you didn't respond within the first minute, but now nearly ten minutes passed since your sudden absence, and it was clear that he hadn't kept that promise. He wanted to bug you until you responded, being in touch with Undyne had lead him to the knowledge that you were, to put it plainly, sulking in your room for days at a time, coming out only to eat. He wanted you to smile, he wanted to know that you were laughing, and he wanted the three year time gap to disappear. 

At the time ticked to five-fifty-five, Sans began to bump his phalanges erratically against the keyboard. He always deleted the messages, but it gave him some comfort to know that at any time he chose, his inner thoughts could be revealed to you. He was typing out nonsense that would never make any sense, his sentences blurbing together as the thoughts mashed in his cranium, but he could share them with you. He wouldn't, but he could. 

He thought about Toriel for a brief moment, another minute moving sluggishly onto the top of his screen. He knew she had had ulterior motives coming into the relationship, Undyne was never very good at whispering. He also knew that Toriel had developed feelings, though very minor, for him. He couldn't say that he hadn't began to care for her a bit more than friends would, but she was only very minimally above the friendship line in terms of feelings. 

But you? 

Where before you had dropped so low on the scale, he was sure you were in the negatives, his affection for you had skyrocketed due to recent events. As if an archaeologist had dug them up from the very depths of his soul, old feelings for you had rushed into him when he had seen your expression the night that all hell broke loose. Your expression when hearing of Mettaton's earlier deception: Shock

Your expression at seeing him: Surprise

Your expression at punching Mettaton: Priceless

The rage that had melted away your kind features and the undisguised hatred, though small, that stole away your gaze had captivated him. The moment your fist sailed into Mettaton's cheek, he had been vexed by you. You were a storm that could no longer conceal its lightning, a storm that would not allow its thunder to go unheard. You had dug into Mettaton with as much concentration as Undyne had, and though your punches hadn't cracked the metal, it had certainly dented it. In that moment, and many moments after, you had traveled far from who you were before you had found out, and you were an undiscovered vortex Sans desperately wanted to explore. 

In all of the years he had known you, rage was never an expression painted on your face. Determination, sure. Anger, maybe sometimes. Hatred? Never. 

You were suddenly brand new, an anomaly standing in your place. He wanted to know more about you, he wanted to relearn all of the things he had previously forgotten, and he wanted that three year gap to disappear. Who had you grown to be in his absence? How had you changed? Had you changed? 

Well, yes, of course you had. The emotion in your eyes several weeks ago proved that. 

His phone buzzed in his grasp, the metal clanging across his hands. Looking down, he read the message eagerly. 

**-Bad jokes often do lead to rough crowds- Fallen Star 5:57pm** He typed back quickly, fingers dancing across the keyboard almost violently. Based on your blunt reply, he could tell that whatever had interrupted your conversation with him had been something undesirable, so he thought better than to question it. 

**-what did the banana say when he changed into a tux- 111-111-1111 5:57pm**

**-I find this attire a _peeling_?- Fallen Star 5:58pm **

**-you nerd- 111-111-1111 5:58pm**

**-you're not supposed to steal my lines- 5:58pm**

**-okay i have another one- 5:58pm**

**-Okay- Fallen Star 5:59pm**

**-Pap once tried to annoy me with bird puns- 111-111-1111 5:59pm**

**-Oh stars, that couldn't have gone well- Fallen Star 6:00pm**

**-no it didn't- 111-111-1111 6:01pm**

**-he didn't realized that _toucan_ play at that game- 6:01pm **

**-That was awful- Fallen Star 6:01pm**

**-;l- 111-111-1111 6:01pm**

**-wanna hear another- 111-111-1111 6:01pm**

**-Sure, though, I doubt it would matter how I responded- Fallen Star 6:03pm**

**-i used to want to be a juggler- 111-111-1111 6:04pm**

**-but like- 111-111-1111 6:04pm**

**-it's not that i couldn't do it, i just didn't have the _balls_ to- 111-111-1111 6:05pm **

**-I..- Fallen Star 6:05pm**

**-Is that an anatomical pun referring to your lack of flesh, and thus reproductive organs, or a pun based on how you did not actually acquire the items needed to juggle- Fallen Star 6:06pm**

**-okay remember when i said don't get formal with me- 111-111-1111 6:06pm**

**-that was really formal- 111-111-1111 6:06pm**

**-but it was the second option ;l- 111-111-1111 6:07pm**

**-Thank the stars- 111-111-1111 6:08pm** By this time, a deep grin had flourished across his face, and he was animatedly laughing to the image of your embarrassed face as it came into mind. He glanced down at his screen, the contact name smiling back up at him. When he had started to text you, he was only going off of the number he had previously known, having deleted your number several years prior. He was glad to find that when you had gotten a new phone, as you no doubt had since his breakup with you, you hadn't changed the number. 

He had given you that name after his memories teased him, the beautiful times shared between the two of you flickered like movies during his waking moments, and taunted like nightmares when he was asleep. He was just as responsible for the demise of his relationship with you as Mettaton was, though perhaps less so. Perhaps more so. He hadn't trusted you enough to ask you about what he had heard, what he had been shown, relying completely on Mettaton for information that turned out to be as faux as the robot himself. 

He hadn't trusted you enough to ask, assuming that you knew what you had done, even if you didn't know that that was the reason for the relationship ending in the flames that it did. 

You didn't know. 

Sans wasn't even sure if you had done anything at all, the outline within Mettaton's treacherous booklets hadn't revealed how much of his words were lies and how much had been truths. But seeing your perplexed face, riddled with hurt, had assured him almost completely that you had done nothing wrong. 

Mettaton had lied, and he hadn't questioned the actor. 

**-wanna hear another- 111-111-1111 6:10pm**

**-Do I have a choice?- Fallen Star 6:11pm**

**-sure- 111-111-1111 6:11pm**

**-your choices are yes and yes- 111-111-1111 6:11pm**

**-Then my answer is yes :)- Fallen Star 6:12pm**

**-whoa an emoji, and it's smiling- 111-111-1111 6:12pm**

**-a big leap from the formal tone earlier- 111-111-1111 6:12pm**

**-i like it- 111-111-1111 6:13pm**

**-:)- Fallen Star 6:13pm**

**-i ever tell you about the time we had to call the cops on this kid- 111-111-1111 6:14pm**

**-Why, were they _resisting a rest_?- Fallen Star 6:15pm **

**-kiddo, you gotta stop stealing my lines- 111-111-1111 6:16pm**

**-I can't help it- Fallen Star 6:18pm**

**-I guess you could say that since we've last spoken, an honest conversation, I've made strides at reaching my full _pun_ tential- Fallen Star 6:19pm **

**-kiddo- 111-111-1111 6:20pm**

**-that was aful- 111-111-1111 6:20pm**

**-Almost as awful as your spelling? ;)- Fallen Star 6:21pm**

**-i missed the W, sue me- 111-111-1111 6:22pm**

His smile had only grown throughout the conversation, his teeth straining at the edges after you had made a pun without him providing the prompt. You were too cute. 

**-Keep going with the puns, though?- Fallen Star 6:23pm**

**-They're making me laugh :)- Fallen Star 6:23pm**

**-you got it kiddo, on one condition- 111-111-1111 6:24pm**

**-And that is?- Fallen Star 6:29pm**

**-you let me finish them >;l- 111-111-1111 6:29pm**

His door creaked open, and for the first time in quite a while, Sans tore his gaze away from the device in hand. Standing in his doorway, a somber look pressed to her face, was Toriel. Her smile was present, but it wasn't sincere in the least, and even if that did not betray her internal sadness, her eyes certainly did. 

Sans did not text you back, instead placing his phone on the bed beside him and rising. He heard it buzz as you replied, but ignored it and instead made his way over to Toriel. Arms stretched out in front of him, he tried to gather her into his arms in what he hoped would be a comforting enough hug, but her paw stopped him. She pressed it to his chest when he got near enough, her smile only straining even more as she gazed down at him. "*Toriel?" His head tilted as he tried to maneuver around the paw that kept him back, though he wasn't very successful. 

With her other hand, Toriel reached behind her, grabbing something and dragging it so that it rested by her calf. Sans stared at it quizzically, his endeavors to embrace her momentarily stopped. A suitcase, little snails decorating the fabric, caught his full attention. He didn't have to ask if there were more, the outlines of at least two more drifted just barely into sight. "Sans, I'm leaving." That broke his stare on the objects, his gaze traveling up to her face. 

"*what?" 

"It's been a fun year and a half, really it has, but..." She trailed off, casting her own sad glance down to her belongings, shrouded beneath snail-covered fabric. She turned back to him, her eyes intense with both sadness and determination. "It's time for me to go." 

He didn't need to ask why. 

She wouldn't have told him why even if he had asked, but he knew the reason. 

Toriel was a beautiful creature, and seeing her friends suffer made her undoubtedly feel tortured as well. Toriel was a kind being, one full of empathy, sympathy, and enough love to encase this wretched planet and rid it of all its evil, should it ever have the chance to do so. 

He knew that Toriel believed that leaving him would help you, and he knew that she hoped it would help him, too. 

She didn't wait for him to move, grasping her belongings in hand before drifting away from him. He stumbled forward, trying to grab her and pull her close before she left, but his bedroom door shut in his face before he could. The shuffling of heavy feet could be heard in the hallway as he yanked the door open, head swiveling from side to side to try and found her before she could get too far. He wanted to assure her that she didn't have to go, but before he could take one step into the hallway, the front door slammed shut. To anyone else, it would have just been a door, but for him it symbolized another relationship ending prematurely. 

Feeling rushed, Sans disappeared back into his room, not sparing your text a glance as he shut off his phone. The phone lit up moments later anyway, and he moved to view the notification. 

**-Hey, are you okay? Toriel just texted me- Undyne the Undying 6:41pm**

Chucking the phone to the floor, though gentle enough that the floor wouldn't damage it, Sans curled onto the bed. The cold licked at his bones, and he drew the covers over himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kinda lost inspiration while writing this :x I'm sure it's pretty obvious where :( 
> 
> Sorry about this one, guys!


	33. Then

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mettaton POV  
> ****One year and eleven months after the breakup*****

Your tongue jut out beyond your lips, slowly gliding across the tender flesh with a sensual intensity that forced Mettaton to blush more than he ever had before. Your lips parted slightly as you drew the offending muscle back into your jaws, a delicious smile tilting the corners of your mouth skywards as you looked up from your meal. You offered him a vibrant grin, clearly oblivious to what your actions had just done to him. Your kind smile drifted over to one of concern as you regarded his strained expression, that damned mouth opening once again to ask if he was alright. 

Was he overheating? He felt like he was overheating. 

Lifting his hand from where it had rested on his lap, Mettaton waved your question away. "I'm fine, darling. Absolutely marvelous," You shrugged, turning back to your food and digging your fork into a piece of sauce laden meat. You lifted it to your lips, the thick sauce coating your lips in a way that left him breathless, sliding the thing beyond your lips and into your mouth. 

He watched as you chewed, rather slowly, his eyes never leaving the tender flesh of your lips. They were in public, you were likely to be seen as someone just enjoying their food like anybody else, but should anyone choose to look his way, they would certainly rid themselves of that thought when they saw the deep blush that dominated his cheeks. That hellish muscle left your lips yet again as you lapped up the sauce, not caring who saw. 

His breathing hitched as you again lifted your head and gazed up at him, his eyes quickly meeting yours. You had a devilish smirk tugging at the corner of your lips, and he couldn't breathe. Did he need to breathe? No, he remembered, but he certainly needed his fans to work. And currently, they had stopped. 

"Something bothering you, _babe_?" Your voice purred, eliciting a guttural groan from his own throat. He leaned forward slightly, fists clenched and rumpling up the material of his dress. When he didn't answer, you spoke up again, "You look a bit flustered?" 

Your words brought forth a soft sound, emitting from his chest in an unflattering thrum. Trying to gather himself to speak, or to at least reactivate his fans, Mettaton could only gape at you. When had you become so confident? No, you had been confident for quite some time already. 

When had you become so daring? That was the real question here. 

Unknowingly, his own fingers had come up to his face, thumb rubbing against the smooth metal of his cheek while his index and middle fingers poked at his lips. You stuck your tongue at him, flicking the tip slightly, before returning to the false face of innocence you wore for the cameras. 

You had him twisted around your fingers, and all you were doing was eating a saucy Chicken Alfredo dish. 

Fans whirring to life inside of him, Mettaton sheepishly dropped his gaze to the dish in front of him, which tantalizing as it may look, went uneaten for the duration of their stay at the restaurant. 

He was interested in indulging in something else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What
> 
> What is this
> 
> What am I doing


	34. Then

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mettaton POV  
> ****Two years after the breakup****

Your shoulders rocked back and forth as your body shimmied, a coy smile dripped from your lips, tongue caught between your teeth as you grinned. Your cheeks were flushed with a deep blush that would have captivated anyone, the pure look of happiness as it rose onto your features throughout the night, and your eyes held that alluring tone that spoke of adoration, all for him. Tonight, you gave him that very look that he had fallen for seven months prior, and he knew he was returning your stare with a look similar painted on his face. 

He was completely enamored by you, though in all honestly, there were never times he wasn't. Your internal elation splashed onto your face in physical colors and tones that no artist could ever hope to capture on canvas, and he found himself lulled into a deep sense of wonder. Your eyes were open and staring boldly into his as you danced, the movements holding a tick of informality as you worked in an occasional jerk of your shoulders or tilt of your hips. 

You were a star tonight, shining brighter than he could ever hope to. He had no doubts that the cameras trained on him were losing focus, how could they not? How could anyone stare at him without seeing you? How could any camera, any person, any audience hope to stay their gaze on him when you were something amazing, something breathtaking, something so undeniably perfect that you threatened to steal away the world's focus with a simple smile? 

His soul twanged with jealousy over being outdone by someone who had previously been close to Sans, the only other person to have bested him in his own game of popularity and fame, but it only throbbed minutely. He could shine brighter any day, his sheer amount of fans and admirers proving that, but he just couldn't hope to compete with you tonight. That was fine. You could steal away the cameras and attention tonight, how could he not allow it? 

It was his one year anniversary with you, and it was quickly becoming a night for all to remember. Tonight, in terms of stardom, you were a force to be reckoned with. Tonight, you were provocative in person and powerful on screen, a startling new presence in the world of fame and media, and with your very fingertips, you could shake that world with as much tenacity as he had before, as he still did. Your shocking happiness was electrifying, and with every minute that the energetic aura sparked in the air, he could feel more eyes slip from his person and he knew that they were turning to you instead. 

Your eyes shut as you lost yourself in the music, though it was all violins and strings and not in the least deserving of your immense and important joy, you slipped into that deep sense of security he knew that only he could give you. Your tongue yanked back into your mouth as you gave yourself what was often referred to as a "Cheap Thrill", your body whirling as you spun briefly. Your hand jutted out from where it had previously been suspended in the air, grasping his as you leaned back. 

You were devastating for him, a being that could tear away his cold interior and layer it with warmth and love as much as you could should not have existed, or, at the very least, should not be present in his life. But you were, and you left him feeling inspired. 

You drew in a breath sharply as you pulled back into position in front of him, a riveting smile tickling your lips as you covered your teeth with the flesh. Mettaton allowed an amused grin to take over the awestruck expression he had held heartbeats prior, feeling very eager to make that sound occur again. Your hips waggled at him teasingly before setting back into the confident rocking they had gotten used to, the motion leaving him breathless. 

Taking in your fulfilled demeanor as you once again twirled your figure around, Mettaton found that it was him, instead of you, that was gasping. 

Colleagues surrounding him, fans watching his every movement, though no doubt yours more than his, Mettaton gripped your shoulders and moved forward, the full intention of meeting your lips with his clear. Were his colleagues also jealous of the storm you had become? Were they envious that you, a mere mortal in terms of fame, could outdo anyone on stage with the simplest of facial expressions? 

He threw the thought away as you, too, leaned forward. He angled his body down to something akin to a bow, your shorter stature always forcing him to do so, and he met you in the middle.

The kiss threatened to burn him, the flame of your passion pressed in this display of affection all but engulfed him as his arms wrapped around you, clutching at your waist to try and find purchase against the stiff, rough material that hid your body away from him. His metal fingers could find no such grip, but it didn't stop him from trying over and over again. 

Your arms slid over his shoulders briefly, hugging him as close as you could, before drifting lower and gripping at his waist. Mettaton could feel all of the eyes in the too-large ballroom slip back onto him, the feeling being lost quickly though as you tilted your head to deepen the kiss, and suddenly, he was stranded by your touch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is like ten times better than the last two chapters .3.


	35. Then

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mettaton POV  
> ****Two years and one month after the breakup****

The darkness grew like personified shadows, no corner going without the presence of the inky dancers as they flashed around the room tirelessly. The room was frequently illuminated by the sizzling lightning as it poured from the heavens, the near-silence burning away with harsh shouts descending from the clouds. The shadows responded accordingly, dancing across the walls as if to escape the light before settling once more in their previous positions, only to be scattered again and again as the storm raged on. 

Mettaton kept a silent and protective watch over you, your snores serenading him for his efforts. You had a very important meeting with a potential employer tomorrow morning, and he'd be damned if he allowed something as frivolous as a storm to steal away your sleep. Only he was allowed to keep you up, he thought smugly. No angry clouds nor frightening heavens could rid him of his duty, he simply would not allow it. 

He made a mental note to have the room sound proofed, the rain scoring against the window loudly, furiously trying to breach the warm sanctuary that was his lavish and large bedroom. He glared at the offending droplets as they stuck, watching them glide down the smooth glass as others joined their places. Flicking his eyes shut, Mettaton took a dramatic intake of breath, exhaling soundlessly. He was not going to wake you. 

Opening his eyes and sliding them over to regard your sleeping form, a smile found its way onto his lips. Your fingers were tangled in the sheets, your head pressed firm against the pillow, and a light film of sweat had developed over your skin. 

His smile quickly morphed into a frown as guiltless thoughts tried to gain his attention. The memories of what he had done to get this far worried at the forefront of his mind. Reaching out to brush cold metal digits against your cheek, Mettaton watched you stir slightly, your face pressing deeper into the soft cushion beneath your head. Your lips parted and the covers slipped further from your shoulders at your movement, but aside from that, your slumber went undisturbed. More for those invisible cameras than to voice any doubts that lingered at his previous actions, Mettaton whispered, his robotic words hardly able to be heard by anyone who may have stopped to listen, "If I had not done any of those things," He thought back to the countless days spent trying to achieve a perfect performance, one of which led you away from Sans and into his arms instead, "How could something as beautiful as our relationship have ever come into fruition?" 

The shadows escaped from their corners, jumping around as more light seeped into the room, bleaching the walls a startling white and shining over his skin. A throaty moan escaped your lips as the thunder that followed rumbled loudly, the sound so intense Mettaton was sure his house was shaking. 

Mettaton turned his face so that he could glare at the heavens beyond the window he selected to gaze upon. As if to apologize, the sound died down, but you were already awake. 

Sitting up so that you were mirroring his position, you rubbed at your eyes. A deep yawn stretched your mouth almost impossibly so, and Mettaton moved so that his body faced yours. Pressing a hand into your shoulder, he pushed until you were again laying atop the mattress. You gazed up at him with sleepy eyes, a dopey smile sitting on your lips as you spoke, "Babe?" You yawned again, patting the spot where his body would be should he choose to lay beside you. "Were you woken by the storm, too?" 

Your words were sluggish and your eyelids stayed over your eyes longer and longer with every blink. "Yes, darling," Mettaton smiled, shuffling so that he rested beside you, his arm moving to tuck beneath you and draw you closer. You scooted forward on your own, dipping your head against his neck as you hugged him tightly. 

His heart caught in his throat, you were too cute. 

Your lips brushed against his metallic skin, you were too courageous. 

Pulling away slightly, Mettaton offered you a strained smile, which you sleepily returned. You nuzzled back against him, arms snug against his person as you drew him as close as you could. Your right leg draped over his hips, and he came to the conclusion that you were just trying to get comfortable. 

Pursing his lips to fight back the smile that twisted his lips, he placed a loving kiss on the crown of your skull, nuzzling the spot after he removed his lips from it. Your soft snores were already beginning to fill the space between the thunder and the silence, your heartbeat thudding against his frame. Mettaton sent one last quick glance to the shadows that moved erratically, and settled to sleep with you in his arms. 

His eyes shut, and just before succumbing to the pull of sleep he did not need, he could not help but think how glad he was to have spent all that time planning out what he thought to be his best performance yet. 

He slept with a smile gracing his features.


	36. Now

There is wax on your hands. There is candle wax on your hands and it is cooling and it is sticky and it is gross and it is molding to the shape of your fingers and _there is candle wax on your hands_. Lips wiggling away from the smile they held previous, the corners turned down though the middle was still curved skywards and creating what was no doubt a hilarious sight, you gazed as the orange goo stopped oozing over your skin, hardening with every second that passed. 

You looked at it, lifted your head to stare up at Undyne, distressed, then back down to the goo. Then back at Undyne, then back to the goo. Undyne, goo. Undyne, goo. Goo? Undyne. Undyne? Goo. 

Your grimace only tightens as you expose your teeth to her, your voice working through the bone as you ask the question you really need the answer to, " _Why?_ " She flashes a proud grin your way at the sound of your strained voice, which was hoarse with absolute disgust. 

"Well, uh, you know what they say! Candle wax is good for, uh, um...Nerd!" You squint at her, mouth wrinkling even further and face scrunching up. "Yeah! Candle wax is good for nerds! One hundred percent backed up by..Alphys! And she's a scientist." 

" _Why_?" You choked out again, sending a dismayed glance to your hands, the wax having completely hardened over them now. A short gurgle erupts from your throat, and you're looking back up at Undyne. 

She's smiling. "Especially Lemon Biscotti candle wax! Definitely good for dorks!" 

"I thought you said it was good for nerds?" You whine, shaking your hands frantically. They were bound together by the should-be soft goo, and your eyes squint harder, nearly blocking her out of view with your eyelids. 

She guffaws, and you're whining even more. "It's mixed with glue!" 

" _Why_? _Why?_ " Your smile waggled even further, there is candle wax mixed with glue on your hands. 

"As they say in my home country, YOLO." 

"Your home country is a mountain!" You squawked. "Who even says YOLO? _Why?_ " Your arms were a flurry of motion as you tried to shake off the would-be goo, rising to your feet before dashing over to your door. Awkwardly gripping at the knob with your elbows, you pulled the door open, smacking your forehead in the process. 

Her laughter grew, stopping only so that she could gasp, "You're leaving your room today, nerd!" 

"I leave my room every day!" 

"Yeah!" She shouted, barely being heard over your frantic footsteps as you darted down the hall. "Well, now, it won't be to eat or shower! Yeah!" You nearly tripped, you were going too fast. You didn't dare shoot a glare at Undyne, not right now. You had one goal in mind, and that was getting to the kitchen and finding a solvent to rid yourself of the _hardened goo_ coating your hands. Your breath didn't catch as you ran passed Sans, who was casually sitting at the kitchen table, rushing over to the sink. 

Smashing the faucet skywards, you rubbed at the glossy wax, or, you would have _if your hands hadn't been trapped in it_. Your cheeks puffed out in worry as you tried to clap your hands together and draw them apart, the latter being monumentally harder than the former. "*hey. what's going on?" 

" _Undyneputgluewaxonmyhands_." Your speech came out quick and forced, eyes widening as your hands began to shift, clear proof that they were slowly, but surely, being released from their disgusting prison. You didn't spare a thought at your current situation, if you had, it would likely be filled with "What would Mettaton do if he saw your hands in such a mess?" 

"*really?" The legs of the chair he was sitting on scraped against the floor, his soft padding hardly audible compared to the running water. "*same. but Pap, not Undyne." You glanced over to see his hands suspended in the hair, waxy with...Wax, probably. 

Speaking of the devil, Undyne's loud voice boomed in the medium-sized room, overpowering the sound of running water and nearly drowning it out completely, "The two of you are like twins!" She harshly shouted, though you knew it was the volume that made it seem cruel. "One sulks in his bedroom for, like, ever, and the other follows!" 

Noticing that the only solvent you could think of was absent from its usual place beside the faucet, your voice joined Undyne's, "Undyne, where is the soap?" 

"So Pap and I decided that the two of you are going to leave your rooms! Today!" 

"Undyne, where is the soap?" You stressed, the wax plying apart as you separated your hands. 

"It's been nearly a month since this whole moping thing started! Two weeks since you started, loser!" Your friend was too pure for this world, but right now, you really needed the soap. Now. As in right now. You voiced your concerns, but she ignored them. "So we decided to glue your hands with wax because it's good for nerds like you, dorks!" 

Sans offered a near helpless shrug, "*what can you do?" 

"Not have my hands encased in glue-wax-whatever-this-is. Undyne, where is the soap?" The material was off of you, but you had a feeling that the moment you withdrew your hands from their wet home, your fingers would again be laden with the uncomfortable feeling of wax. 

You let out a loud groan of appreciation as Sans' hand slithered into view, the bottle of soap nearly dropping from his grip as he squeezed a bit of the liquid into your hands. You didn't have time to voice your thanks, furiously scrubbing away at the disgusting coating and hoped that it didn't affect the drains. 

"I'm going to put this stuff in your bed, Undyne," You threatened heartily. "All over your pillows. Sheets. Covers. Everywhere. Nothing will be safe, no one will be spared. Not tonight, definitely. I'll do it when you're least expecting it," 

"Then I'll always expect it!" She laughed, and you forced a smile. 

"You'll forget. Then? Then I'll do it." Sans watched you with a perplexed grin thrust upon his features. You looked into those eyes, a wickedly fake smile taking over your lips, "You can take Pap." 

He smiled, and you focused on ridding yourself of the disgusting wax-glue, the water scathing now. Still, you pressed on, a scowl resuming over your mouth after you had finished smiling. 

After ten or so more minutes, you removed your hands from the water and dried them on thick paper towels. Upon inspecting your fingers, you noticed a distinctive shiny film coating your skin, and let out an unearthly shriek, " _Why_?"


	37. Then

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mettaton POV  
> ****Two years and two months after the breakup****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ****SMUT****

Mettaton woke with a start, his eyes twisting shut shortly after they had opened. A loud groan, though _certainly_ not unpleasant, rumbled from your cheeks and stirred away most of the sleep from his mind. With his stomach pressed firm to your back, he leaned his head forward so that his lips were positioned by your ear, but before he could speak, an even louder noise began to boom, shaking you almost violently from your slumber as it sounded. The music that was now cruelly slamming from your speakers was so shocking, for the both of you, that your head raced upwards in surprise, the back of your skull grazing his nose as he quickly moved to avoid the oncoming collision.

Your fingers scrambled around the sheets to look for the offending device, which had been placed too close to your ear, and you quickly swiped to the right when you found it. As the music died and your breathing slowed, you settled back down into your pre-warmed placed on the mattress, body sinking into it and hands snagging at the covers to draw them over where they had fallen. Another sleepy moan roused from your lips, and Mettaton found himself intrigued at the sound. 

Your body turned rapidly, suddenly your front was pressing into his and your fingers were curling over places that they shouldn't have been. Your left hand was running along his bare back, tracing patterns and threatening to drive him mad should you decide to continue with your feather light touches. Your right hand had moved into a fist, placed over his right shoulder before opening, you beginning to run the pads of your fingers over his smooth skin all-too sensually. The last of his sleep was effectively thrown out as you continued your ministrations, fingers rubbing along his spine.

Breath catching, Mettaton looked down at your face and found that no trace of the tiredness you had been expressing only moments prior could be found in your smirk. Your eyes remained shut, but other than that, you were wide awake. The silence was thunderous, broken occasionally at his soft squeals and squeaks whenever your left hand drifted too low. He began to speak, wanting desperately to ask how being startled from your sleep had lead to such bold actions, when you moved quickly. 

Your left leg positioned over his hip, you lifted yourself off of the bed so that you were straddling him, a devilish, though definitely sleepy, grin poised over your lips. Your eyes had opened to scan his features, and the positively dominant look in your eyes had given him enough bravado to thrust his hips into yours. Before he could repeat the action, you were scooting forward so that you were straddling his waist instead, effectively trapping him to his soft prison beneath you. 

Your fingers were tangling together and promptly separating each time they met over his chest as you gently ran the offending digits over his skin. You were touching buttons and dials without a care, growing only more courageous as time when on, and it did, slowly. You twisted things you really shouldn't have been twisting, bopping things that weren't meant to be bopped, and dragged your fingers along his metallic skin, splaying them occasionally. 

Eventually you rested your hands at the glass just over his naval, where his soul was protected from all who would wish to harm it, and you knocked a knuckle against it three times. Your eyes never left his face, even as he angled his head to look down at what you were doing. Your fingers, light as air, touched his naval softly and began to work their way down. 

_Certainly_ not unpleasant. 

With an audible, though only just so, pop Mettaton revealed his soul to you. It's neon pink color shone in the room like a sunlit diamond, begging for your gentle touch. You gave him a curious stare, right eyebrow raised in question, and he released a short groan of his own, head nodding fast. Souls had two purposes when revealed to others, fighting and intimacy. He couldn't imagine that you would want to harm his right now, your hands suspended and cupping the air around it. 

Your fingers curled, the tips of your index and middle fingers on both hands lightly caressing the soul. It brightened considerably, giving you enough courage to grasp it in your hands. Thinking that you were just going to hold it, Mettaton relaxed his frazzled nerves, settling deeper on the mattress after finding that he had involuntarily lifted from it slightly. You sluggishly brought the cartoonish heart to your lips, and Mettaton prepared for you to kiss it. 

His mind melted into a fuzzy blur when your tongue protruded from your mouth suddenly, the muscle running from the tip of the bottom to the top of the left side. Your saliva was thick and delicious against his soul as it parted the gooey coating, frizzing his nerves further as his back arched with pleasure. You repeated the action, this time moving to the upper right side, exploring the expanse of his soul thoroughly. The tip of your tongue flicked each time it reached the top of his soul, driving him further into madness. Your eyes never left his, not even to look at what you were so adamant in touching with your tongue. 

He would jerk his hips skywards occasionally, when his body chose to do it, but he never raised more than an inch off of the bed, your hips restraining his middle and preventing too much movement. The gel-like coating covering his soul began to grow in amount as little droplets scattered onto his form and slid onto the bed, and you brought the soul closer to your mouth, opening it wide.

You began to suckle on his soul, clearly not caring when the light illuminated until you couldn't possibly see him behind the curtain of pink, and obviously either oblivious or again without a care when your skin began to glow the very same pink, your tongue no doubt shining with that light. Eye twitching, Mettaton continued to try and drive his hips to your core, your position always denying him but he kept resisting your hold. Your teeth scraped the tender should-be flesh, and Mettaton felt his grip on sanity loosen all that much more.

Your phone, the device seeming to be the catalyst for your brave behavior, began to shrill loudly again. Grasping his soul in one hand, tongue not letting up on its assault, you reached out a thoroughly coated hand and used your wrist to slide the alarm away. Your eyes never left his. Even though he could only just see them, the whites of your eyes contrasting greatly with the intense pink, he could see that you were still staring at him. 

A near pitiful mewl escaped his lips as your other hand returned to his soul, your index finger prodding at the delicate heart mercilessly. His own fingers clutched at the bed sheets terribly, and he didn't entertain the thought that he was likely tearing them. Your teasing touches and vivacious licking was maddening, both too slow and much too fast with every time your tongue made contact with the pink heart. 

He was close, he knew that much as his thoughts scattered, his hands coming to rest on your hips and squeeze around the soft flesh. Your own hips thrust forward momentarily before you got a hold of yourself, but it was too late. The opportunity gave him enough time to lift you and flip you onto your back, a rush of ooze spitting onto your face as you looked up at him, eyes narrowing. His hips met your core again and again, spastic in movement but sure in their destination. You let out soft grunts as his metallic skin rubbed against your clothed core, a tantalizing smirk playing on your lips as you lifted the soul from where it had previously been trapped between them. 

His eyes screwed shut as he thrust erratically, more to release sexual frustration than to give either of you any pleasure. "Mettaton," Your soft voice cooed, spurring him on further, his movements coming faster now. Your brought the soul back to your lips, the action evident as you began to lay soft and unbearable kisses upon the would-be flesh. You were maddening. 

All the sleep washed from the both of you, he leaned forward, resting his forehead against yours as he began to grind against your skin. Your breaths were coming out in soft puffs, tickling both his soul and his face. The light of the former was shining through his shut eyes, much too bright.

You ran your tongue languidly from top to bottom and then back again, and it grew only brighter, possibly outshining even the sun should the large star make its presence known. "Fuh-!" He gasped, wanting nothing more than to bring you closer to the madness he was nearing. "Keh-!" He grunted, hips pressed against yours firmly as he moved, your tongue encouraging his actions. 

You began to nibble on the soft soul, teeth sharp and light as they began to mark him. His fans threatened to collapse within him, wires coiling and gears turning as his eyes opened. 

Your eyes were thick with sleep, that he had previously thought to be gone, and need, that insanely sensual smile that had drifted over your lips only widening when you saw that he was meeting your gaze. Maintaining eye contact, your tongue splayed across the soul, thoroughly coated in his goo as it ran endlessly from the heart, and Mettaton could no longer hold it in. 

With a _loud_ cry, he came. His soul began to pour the ooze at an explosive rate, as it was likely to do during soul play such as this. It streamed down and covered your cheeks and mouth, your tongue drawing back into your lips as you swallowed, quickly peeking back out to gather more of the substance. The look in your eyes demanded more, and Mettaton found himself thoroughly under your control. 

The race was later today, but you were apparently dead set on getting some cardio in well before it started.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, my ao3 name is Jeb, and apparently I write smut now. Not very well, but I do, now. 
> 
> Huh.


	38. Now

**-so i got a question- ExSkell1 6:13am**

**-Shoot- ___-___-____ 6:13am**

**-would you ever hurt Pap?- ExSkell1 6:16am**

**-Would you?- ___-___-____ 6:16am**

**-no- ExSkell1 6:16am**

**-Then you have my answer- ___-___-____ 6:17am**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder: While the story may or may not be nearing its end, I'm not finished with it :) Questions will be answered in depth by the last chapter, I promise you guys


	39. Then

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ****Three years before the breakup****

Your fingers curled in your too-long locks, pressing the hair behind your ear as you glared at the ground. Your face was burning with deep embarrassment, only furthering with every strand that wrestled back in front of you, resisting you. You kept sweeping the hair away, but it only fell from behind your ears tirelessly, the silent war between your identity and your want for acceptance evident to you by these stupid strands. You lifted your gaze from the ground to harshly grab a handful of hair, focusing your heated gaze on it. 

Why couldn't life just be so simple? Why couldn't you have been born a gender that reflected who you were? Who you are? Why did you have to endure judging stares and angry words every time you tried to be happy, every time you tried to be you? 

Why did you stare into a mirror every day, wondering why the body looking back at you still wasn't you?

Your parents had been supportive, allowing you to wear and do whatever you pleased in the house, but you rarely continued the "Charade" outside of your home. You would always get reprimanded at school for wearing clothing that wasn't girly, you would always get teased on the streets by your peers and others who just didn't understand, you would always be tortured by the self-loathing thoughts that followed. Your access to the internet had led you to the knowledge that you were not wrong, you were not a freak, but..

Why did you feel like one? 

With an angered sigh, you yanked down on the soft tresses in your hand, ignoring the pain that followed. Tears began to well at your eyes, the liquid spilling over with every jerk of your hand as you pulled at your hair, as if trying to tug it free and off of your head where you knew it did not belong. Your other hand rose to your face, the heel of your open palm rubbing against your cheeks to try and rid yourself of the tears, but new ones deemed your efforts useless. 

A broken sob hiccuped from your throat as you breathed, releasing the now tangled locks from your grip. They hung limply in front of you, a curtain of shame and sorrow that you couldn't bring yourself to get rid of. You knew that you had friends who would accept you, but you also knew that a vast majority of them wouldn't. 

Kids are cruel. Even if you and your peers were adults now, the ideas implanted in them since their childhood days rendered them mere children in this subject, and kids are cruel. 

Your fists clenched painfully and you rubbed harder at your cheeks with both, smearing liquid that was only going to be replaced within seconds. A hoarse shuddering breath escaped passed your lips, and you couldn't hold it in any longer. 

Leaning against the door behind you, you slowly lowered yourself, crumpling to the floor with an audible thud once you were close enough to do so. Your tailbone stung and you splayed your legs so that they sat in front of you instead of uncomfortably under you, but you drew them close to you soon anyway. Throwing your arms around your legs and hugging your knees close to your chest, a brutish and echoing cry left your lips as you buried your face against the fabric of your skirt, another reminder that you could never be who you wanted to be. Who you are. 

Your hair began to grow damp as it stuck to your face, the waist-length strands tangling behind you from where they had ridden up while you slid down the door. You wished that you could just cut them off. It would be a tremendous weight off of your head, off of your shoulders, and off of your heart. 

You didn't bother to wipe away the tears as they fell, now. Your forehead rubbed against the rough material of your skirt, irritating the skin and sending pain to shoot through you as it chafed, but you carried on regardless. 

You could never be you outside of this home. 

You could never be free.

The thoughts send another wail to leave your lips, and you desperately hoped that your neighbors were not home. The elderly couple was sweet, and while the woman was condemned to a wheelchair for a little while, you had no doubts that the husband would come knocking if he heard your distress. A wiggling smile ran over your lips, faltering every second as it resisted the urge to become a frown, you were sure they would accept you, too. 

Your parents, some of your friends, and your neighbors could not amount to the entire world, though. There were dozens of transgender icons in the media, the most prominent being a flashy star who was commonly addressed as "Mettaton", but even he had moments where he dressed as the gender he was made into. No one knew his true gender, but he went by masculine pronouns and sometimes wore dresses and flowers, and he had a feminine body. Perhaps he was a girl? Perhaps he was a boy? You didn't know, but most labeled the rising star as a transgender male, and he was fearless. 

A great contrast to you, you thought bitterly. 

He didn't have to worry about the staring and the whispering and his friends leaving him because that monster just didn't care. None of your transgender idols did. They could make new friends, their ratings would rise and fall regardless of a few people's disapproval, and they were comfortable just being themselves. 

The thought spurred another piercing cry to dribble from your lips, the tears only falling harder, now. You jerked your head away from your knees, frantically pushing the hair behind your ears only to have it fall back down. There was too much. 

Your phone rattled on the floor where you had thrown it, the sound a dull clatter and the only other noise in the room. It didn't go well with your loathing and tearful moans, and so you reached out for it. You had to scoot away from the door to reach it, you had tossed it a decent few arms lengths away from you, but the moment you could you drew the metallic device to your chest, waiting for it to calm its rumbling. 

It didn't. 

You removed it from where it had been tucked against your body. The screen was already lit up, the persistent caller's contact name glaring up at you fiercely. 

**Punny Bones Calling....**

You took in a sharp breath before sliding the Accept button, pressing the phone to your ear. Your breathing was ragged and erratic, would he notice?

"*hey bud. you okay?" He would. He did. 

Knowing that he wouldn't see your movement, you shook your head in the negative, though your words didn't betray that, "Yeah, I'm fine." Your heart sank heavily in your chest, the dread weighing you down enough to make you want to lay on the dirty apartment floor. 

You were trembling now, trying desperately to hold in your sobs. "*you don't sound okay." 

"I am, Sans, I am." You tried to reassure your friend, though the crack in your voice halfway through certainly didn't assist your effort. You sucked in another cold breath, the winter air having permeated your home despite turning the heat up. "What's up?" 

He was silent, and you were the only cause of noise in the sudden break in conversation. Your breaths were too loud, too sad, too telling of your sudden anguish. Hadn't you just been smiling before letting yourself inside? Finally, he spoke again, "*about to go see my friend. what about you?" 

You forced a smile, as fake as the one from outside, and answered, "Nothing, really, I just got inside. It's cold out, isn't it?" 

You knew it was probably pathetic to want to talk about weather to a being who was always covered in jackets, but maybe he could feel the draft up his shorts? Or in his slippers? You knew he felt things, him having been subject to Undyne's pinching and teasing before proving that. "*yeah, kiddo. kinda is. so, what's up?" 

You let out a soft snort, "Didn't I just as you that? And answer it?" 

"*yeah, but you didn't mention what's wrong." 

Your lips curved in an even falser smile than before, of course Sans could see right through you. Maybe if you played the cards right, he wouldn't be able to pick up on anything anymore? Maybe you could convince him that he was reading the signs wrong? You let out a sharp laugh, wishing you were a better actor, "Nothing, Sans! Come on, don't trust me? I'd let you know if something was wrong." Your words were too fast, your voice too hoarse, and you were too broken right now to ever be convincing. Before he could speak again, you filled the silence, "So, who are you going to go visit? Anyone I know?" 

He didn't answer, but a soft tapping at your door distracted you away from the conversation anyway. Telling Sans that you would be right back, again with no answer following your words, you placed the phone on the floor and started towards the door. You lifted the hem of your shirt and used the fabric to rub at your puffy eyes, only opening the door when you were satisfied that your immense depression could not be seen in the dark night, nor could your tears be illuminated by the soft glow of street lights and stars should you be forced to go outside. Pulling the door towards you, you saw who was outside in the hallway.

Your neighbor stood there, a hand poised where the door would be if you had kept it closed, a soft and apologetic smile gracing his lips. You pulled off an energetic smile of your own, you were always better at acting when you had a physical audience, and asked, "Hi-ya! What's going on, Chester?" 

The elderly man flashed a mournful grin, sheepish in nature but with an underlying sadness, and answered. "Are you alright, *****? Margaret and I heard crying?" 

Ah, so he had heard. He and Sans should get to know each other better, they'd be great friends, both being as observant as they are. Margaret, too, though you had always suspected that she'd like Undyne more out of all the monsters in your group of friends. With as high and feminine of a voice as you could manage, you squeaked, "I sure am, Chester! I don't know what you heard, I didn't hear anything, but I'll be sure to let you know if I do! Maybe it was a cat? I'll go searching later, just in case!" Your smile wilted, a reflection of your inner turmoil that demanded to be shown to the world, if only briefly. 

From the way he regarded you, you knew Chester was not convinced. His hand lowered to his side from where it had been awkwardly suspended for some time, "Yes, maybe," His back straightened slightly, a hand placing at the small of it to aid his efforts. He didn't persist the issue any further, "Margaret is making cookies, would you like some, *****?" You smiled again and nodded, your hands lacing behind your back as you leaned forward, hoping to appear as bubbly and happy as you tried to act each day. 

Well, that was dramatic. Sometimes it wasn't an act. Most of the time it wasn't an act. You just had your days where it had to be. 

"Wonderful," He bobbed his head, "They'll be done within the hour and I'll bring some over while they're still hot," He hesitated, and you furrowed your brows. His mouth hung agape, his fleshy gums and few teeth being revealed to you as he tried to find the words, or maybe the courage, to say what he wanted to. He looked almost as if he was staring behind you for a moment, but it was gone fast enough that you didn't spare it a second thought. "To cheer you up." He finished, even though you tilted your head at the words. He looked back down to your face, studying it for a moment before raising a hand to touch it. 

Chester was prone to physical contact, he was a very fatherly man who prided himself in caring for each of his "Children", the other inhabitants in this large apartment complex, but the touch still startled you. His finger traced a line down your face from near your eye, growing damp as it went down. 

"You're not very good at hiding your tears, *****," Your face burned with shame as you pulled away, feeling very much like the child you thought your friends to be, "I'll tell Margaret that it was a cat this time, but I'll be sure to pester you again if I hear that you're upset again," Again, his gaze went behind you for a moment, and you felt very compelled to turn around. Knowing that that would be rude, you refrained. "For now, I'll leave it to someone else." With that, the elderly man began to trudge back through the hallway towards his own home, calling out to you that he would be over soon with the baked goods promised earlier. 

You pursed your lips to stop its insistent wiggling, shutting the door after sending a long glance at your neighbor's back. Closing your eyes, you spun on your heels, preparing to grab your phone and apologize to your friend for being so long, though you knew the impromptu meeting with Chester couldn't have taken more than five minutes, if it reached that at all, when you bumped into something. 

Whatever it was was soft and when you opened your eyes, you noticed that it was also blue, and you felt it wrap its arms around your form, keeping you close. 

The sudden hug filled your heart with even more dread, oddly, but you found yourself pressing further into the embrace when you heard a voice rumble in the small kitchen space, "*he's right, you're not good at it," 

The flood gates erupted, and you felt rude for staining Sans' coat with your tears. Your knees began to wobble and shake, but before they could collapse and force you to fall to the floor, Sans gripped your shoulders and guided you down so that the both of you were sitting cross-legged in front of one another. His hands snaked behind you to get a better grip, pulling you back into the hug that you didn't know you needed. 

He held you for an eternity, and you cuddled close to his jacket and surrounded yourself with the calming warmth and smell of it. You sat in his lap with your legs hanging over his right one, his bony feet, covered by thick pink slippers, trapping your rump where it rested in the space of his cross-legged seated position. You pressed further into him, hating how his phalanges could rake down your long hair, the hair that you didn't want to have.

Would he accept you still, if you cut it all off one day? 

The thought sent chills down your spine and was the catalyst for more tears to begin their descent down your cheeks. Hearing your fresh wave of hiccuped sobs, Sans drew you even closer, your shoulder no doubt rubbing uncomfortably against his ribs. If he cared, he made no mention of it. 

After another few centuries or so, you pulled away, training your gaze on the floor beside him and shyly tucking your long hair behind your ears. Your mouth opened to let out an apology, but his voice cut you off, "*you should shave your head." You looked up at him quizzically, hand still tangled in your large mass of hair, a few strands slipping out of your hold. The phalanges of his left hand were still rubbing against your scalp in a way that was both comforting and oddly chilling, tingles pouring down your spine at his very touch. "*it's obvious you don't like your hair." 

"W..What?" 

His ever present grin lessened in intensity as he gathered a few strands of hair, rubbing them between his index and thumb fingers(?). His gaze never left yours, not until your chin shot downwards and your eyes focused on your legs. You scrambled out of his hold a minute later, standing, an act of which he followed. "*you're not happy." 

Your lips twitched away from their should-be smile. 

"*can we talk about it?" 

You let out a harrowing sigh, your facial features only becoming increasingly more haggard by the second. 

"*we're best friends, aren't we?" 

You nodded. 

"*i don't want my best friend to be upset, and you are." 

Your shoulders slumped, and the sound of him sliding across the rug to get closer to you filled your ears. You looked over at your phone, noticing how you were still in a call with Sans. Your voice whined as it erupted from your lips, "I'm fine," 

"*but you're not." Without any hesitation, he gathered you in his arms, pressing you into another hug that you knew you desperately needed. Your hair found a home in your mouth and in your eyes and everywhere it could, and you viciously yanked it to the side, careless of the sharp pain in your head that followed. You nuzzled into the embrace of your best friend, not wanting to let go even as he began to ask you what was the matter. 

Could he ever accept a freak? Could he ever accept you? 

You cried harder at the thought that no, he couldn't. 

You didn't bother to ask, not trusting yourself should the answer actually be in the negative as you feared. You remembered friends telling you that they would leave you should you pursue this "Foolish" dream of becoming what you were not, and maybe that just meant they weren't actually your friends, but the words still stung. You remembered people warning you that there would be consequences should you ever choose to go against their visage of you, the slightly rugged _female_ who worked at a bookshop by a grocery store. Maybe they didn't deserve your time, but that didn't mean their words held no poison, of which you didn't have an antidote to. 

You remembered so many people negatively responding to your actions and words whenever you would voice your dream of finally being on the outside who you were inside. Could you handle another rejection? And by your best friend?

No, you decided, you couldn't. And so you wept in his arms, no actual words leaving your lips no matter how hard he prompted. 

He scooped you into his arms after a while, carrying you bridal-style into your living room and over to your couch, where he laid you down. You bit your tongue to try and stifle the sounds of your inner despair, but when he tucked his jacket over you to still your shivering, clearly not recognizing that they were not from the cold, and he cupped your cheek, you couldn't hold back your wails. They were quiet, but they were there. "I'm sorry," You gasped, leaning away from his touch. "I'm sorry!" 

He knelt in front of the couch, his right hand brushing over your cheek while the left moved awkwardly to grab your hand. He dragged it over so that he didn't need to cross his arms to reach it, the bones of his fingers rubbing against your soft flesh. He moved so that he could rest his face on the cushion, as close to yours as he could get, and he listened. You weren't making sense, you knew that you weren't, but he listened. He listened as your words rushed into sounds that could not be described as words, he listened as you allowed your sadness to spill from your throat, and he listened in hopes that you would tell him what was wrong. His expression was patient and caring, making your eyes water even more whenever they came close to drying. 

How could you lose that? How could you lose him? 

You shifted so that your hand, the left one and not the one he was holding, rested upon his shoulder. He let you squeeze at his bones none-too-gently, and he listened as you gasped out, "Why am I such a freak?" 

He didn't listen anymore, pressing his forehead against yours, his eyes searching your face until you opened them, which those pixel-pupils then caught. "*you're not a freak." 

"Yes I am!" You wailed, memories of others telling you that you were assaulting your mind. 

His hands left the skin that they had previously been caressing to scoop you up into his hold again. 

This tender action spurred so much more self-loathing and fear than he could have ever imagined. "I'm going to lose you, I'm going to lose everyone," You curled your fingers against his t-shirt, gripping the fabric tightly. 

"*why?" 

"Because I'm a freak!" You whispered harshly, not wanting to disturb your neighbors anymore than you had. "You're going to find out that I've been lying to everyone this entire time, and then you're going to leave me!" He didn't even stiffen, his fingers rubbing along your back where his jacket had fallen. "One day, I'm going to want to be myself, the _real_ me, and you're going to see just what a freak I am, and you're going to leave!" Your voice softened, hardly a whisper, "I can't lose you. I can't lose any of you." 

You felt thoroughly exhausted, and those stupid locks of hair weren't helping as they draped around your wet face and clung to your cheeks. "*we're not going to leave you," You started to tell him that yes, he would, but he carried on. "*you think we'll care if you want to be you? if it makes you happy, then we won't." 

"What if I tell you that the real me is a monster hating freak who has a passion for dust?" 

"*i'd tell you that i know that's not true, because one, you wouldn't be afraid to lose us if that were the case, and two, well, it just isn't true." 

You breathed in his scent, pressing even closer to him. If he moved forward quick enough, he'd break your nose. Your eyes closed. "It's not true," He whispered that he knew that. "But you'll still leave me if I tell you that I'm not a girl," 

"*no, i'd tell you that i knew that already, too." You paused, you had just spoken your thoughts out loud. And he had responded. And he knew? "*you're happier when your hair can't touch your collar, or when you're wearing something baggy and that doesn't have a trace of femininity, and overall, you're just not that picture of a stereotypical girl that the media paints on every magazine," 

Your lips trembled, but now, it was your turn to listen. 

"*you smile a lot more when you're indulging in what you want to indulge in, i think everyone can see it." 

"B-but..I'm a freak.." You breathed, hardly believing his words as they left his lips..er..Teeth? Whatever. You still couldn't believe it. 

"*but you're not." He nuzzled against you face, "*you're kinda..a victim? i read up on stuff like this, and it's not fair that you feel like you have a role that you _have_ to fill just because you were born with a certain set of genitalia, it's dumb. it's really fucking dumb. but if you're not a girl, even if you're not anything, that's okay. if you chose to be you, well..Papyrus loves you, he wouldn't care, Undyne loves you, she wouldn't care, Alphys loves you, she wouldn't care, i love you, i don't care, everyone who loves you, honestly loves you for you, won't care." Somehow, this was almost worse than the rejection you were preparing for. There were so many people in your large number of friends that would care, did they not love you? No, you supposed not, many of them threatening to leave if you ever acted on your desires. "*it's not fair that you felt like you couldn't be yourself because you didn't want to be judged, but i promise you that we're not going anywhere." He tucked his face against the crook of your neck, squeezing you tightly. "*we love you." 

You thought you had cried yourself out, but obviously not, tears springing to your eyes at his declaration. Your arms wrapped tightly around him, awkwardly from your position, and you whispered, "I love you guys, too. I love you, too." 

"*i love you so much. why did you think i would leave you? i love you. a fucking lot." His teeth pressed against your neck in what you could only assume to be a kiss, and had you not been a sobbing mess, your heart would have fluttered at the action. Even with the state you were currently in, you knew that you would fall for the skeleton after tonight, if you hadn't already. 

You squeezed him tightly, "Others haven't been so a-accepting," 

"*yeah? well, i love you. i love you. i love you." Each sentence was punctuated with a soft kiss to your skin, "*and like hell am i going to abandon that because you want to be comfortable in your own skin. i love you, *****. we love you. i love you. i want you to be comfortable and i want you to be happy and i wa-love you," 

A rush of emotion surged through you every time his teeth met your skin, and you squeezed him tighter. He maneuvered himself so that he was resting atop of you on your small couch, his arms firmly around you to pull you into an honest hug, of which you happily returned. 

"*where do you want to start? i want to start today. i want you to be happy starting today." He pulled away from your neck to look into your eyes, the intense love waving from his pupils startling you. "*we can start slow if you're still afraid of making a drastic change," You arched off of the cushions and pressed into his body, nuzzling your head into his neck, your nose brushing against his vertebrae. 

His sharp intake of breath surprised you, so you stopped moving against him, content with the closeness. "I.." You trailed off, not having prepared for this. "Can we cut my hair?" You asked, separating yourself from him and dropping your form back to the couch. "I, uh, don't want to make anyone mad. Maybe just a couple of inches?" His hand reached up to slide against your scalp, phalanges digging into your skin slightly, though not unpleasantly. 

"*'course, babe," The sudden pet name sent shivers down your spine, and you knew that you would be falling for Sans soon. "*if it makes you happy, we'll do it. i don't want you to hide anymore," His phalanges began to rake against the agonizingly long locks of hair that had spread out on the couch, "*but we can take it slow." 

He really was your best friend, wasn't he? You removed your hands from his back to rub at your eyes, not wanting to cry anymore. You offered a watery smile, and he slid off of your body, but not before pressing a loving kiss to your forehead. 

He accepted you. 

He loved you. 

He didn't care if you were a freak, because you weren't. You aren't. 

The smile grew more and more solidified as the thoughts ran through your mind, and you took his hand when he extended it. He helped you stand, wrapping a supporting arm around your shoulders when you wobbled slightly. You, in turn, placed an arm around his middle, leaning into him slightly. The two of you walked over to your kitchen, where someone was persistently knocking at your front door. When you looked to the ground, you noticed that your phone had shut off, the battery likely drained. How long had the two of you laid on your couch? Eternities and centuries, you were sure of it. 

You separated from Sans to open your door, feeling monumentally better. Your neighbor stood there, a wide smile on his lips and a large plate of cookies in his hands. "Hi-ya!" He winked, thrusting the baked goods in your direction. You couldn't fight back the genuine smile that shone from your face even if you had tried, taking the plate from him. "Glad to see you're feeling better, *****." Your brows lowered slightly as you grinned, nodding your head. 

"Thank you, Chester," You started, but he waved you off. 

"My wife made them, not me," The smirk on his face told you that he knew that wasn't what you were thanking him for, though you were just about to. He glanced behind you, and you could practically feel Sans beaming from where he stood just paces away from you, but the elderly man quickly returned his gaze back to you. "Well, I'll see you later. Happy to hear that you checked on that _cat_ , sounds like you and your friend certainly helped cheer it up, though I hope my wife's baking will assist if needed," His grin widened, "Well, I hate to keep Margaret waiting. Goodbye, *****, I look forward to seeing you tomorrow," 

From the tone of his voice, you knew that he knew. Maybe he didn't know everything, but he knew something. You idly wondered if the walls were really as paper thin as his words made them seem, or that man knew you better than you thought he did. By the time you broke from your thoughts, he was halfway into his home, and you called out, "T-thank you, Chester! And thank Margaret for me!" 

He poked his head back out, offering a kind smile, "Will do, *****. Thank you." And he disappeared from sight, his door clicking shut moments later. His words left you with a feeling that he would accept you, too. If Margaret had been out, you were sure she would have gifted you with that same feeling. 

You pulled yourself away from the door and shut it, placing the plate of food on the counter after seeing that Sans had his arms extended. You quickly raced into his embrace, throwing your arms around his middle and pressing your face into his stomach(?). "*wanna get started now?" You nodded eagerly, and he removed himself from the embrace to hold out his hand to you. "*i'm pretty good at cutting hair, or i think i am. Pap never needed a haircut before. if i botch it, we can head to someone who actually knows what they're doing, but i'll give it a shot." 

You eagerly clapped your hand into his, laughing heartily at his words and dismissing the thought that others might judge you. 

Let them. 

You were going to be you. 

Tomorrow, you were going to look in a mirror, and you'll look a bit more like you. 

You followed as Sans led you to your bathroom, and when he asked how much you wanted off, you responded without hesitation, "Six inches." He didn't even question it, the smile on his face growing even wider, something you didn't think was possible. With your free hand, you reached up and tugged at a handful of hair, relishing in the thought that soon there would be a lot less of it to tug. Maybe soon there wouldn't even be enough to grab without problems? Maybe soon there wouldn't even be enough to qualify as peach fuzz? 

The thought filled you with glee. 

You looked up at Sans, who glanced down at you, pressing a little bit closer to you. You really did have the most wonderful of friends, didn't you? As if sensing your thoughts, Sans spoke up, "*Undyne is totally going to love it. you're going to look great because i bet you won't be able to stop smiling once it's done," You beamed up at him, that smile already refusing to leave your face. He let out a deep chuckle, pulling a chair out into the living room and releasing your hand to head into the bathroom. "*you wanna go drag the chair into the kitchen? i'll be over in a minute. your scissors are in here, right?" 

You responded in the affirmative, hefting the back of the chair up and giving him directions as to where he could find the scissors he was looking for. You were so happy, you nearly danced over to the kitchen, him entering before the legs of the chair had even touched the ground. "Thank you," You whispered, feeling as though this wasn't real. "I love you, thank you," You stepped closer to him, and he set the scissors and towel he had been holding down on the nearest counter, throwing his arms around your shoulders. 

"*i love you, too." His words send thrills to ride along your spine and butterflies flapping in your stomach even though he had already told you that. You nuzzled into him for a moment before pulling away, a determined look sliding over your features. You grabbed the towel and carried it over to the chair, him having already picked up the scissors. He stole the soft bundle of fabric from your grip before you sat down, draping it gently over you. 

His hands ran along your scalp and you tilted your head back after he had picked up all of your hair, smiling up at him. He knelt down to make it easier for himself, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead before brushing out the tangles in your hair with his phalanges. There were some tugs, of which he apologized for each time, but you didn't care. Elation had made a new home in your chest at the thought that you were finally one step closer to being _free_. 

And maybe because your best friend had kissed you. So what if it was on the forehead? It was nice. 

His gentle touch soothed you, every snip a new relief as your hair began to fall from where it had been cut. He was murmuring to you, letting you know that he was going to only cut off one inch at a time and even it out, so he could give you a chance to tell him to stop should you not want to continue, and you hummed in response. Kind words of encouragement followed his assurances, occasionally littered with a soft, "*i love you," making this moment all that much sweeter. 

Maybe you had already fallen for your best friend. 

"*two inches gone, now. want to look at it?" You told him that no, you were fine right now. He let you know that he'd need you to sit up whenever you told him to stop, or when he got rid of the six inches you asked him to get rid of, so he could even the cuts out. 

Soft squeals of gratitude left your lips endlessly when he had reached the fourth inch, occasionally riddled with soft "I love you,"s, to which he always paused and placed a kiss on the crown of your skull in response. You were so happy, you were finally going to be free soon. Or, at least, closer to being free. 

You were finally going look more like you. You were going to be one step closer to being the you on the outside that you were on the inside. Did that make sense? Probably not. Did you care? Definitely not. 

You had friends at your back, quite literally, and the only people you had to fear leaving were people who didn't deserve to be close by you anyway. 

Your cheeks hurt from smiling so much, "I love you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What started off as me trying to vent out my negative feelings and press it into a chapter outline quickly evolved into one of the..I don't know-iest chapters I've ever written. 
> 
> I like it. 
> 
> It's long, and you guys probably won't like it, but it really made me feel better. There were a lot of times that I found myself feeling much better while writing this. Does that make sense? I doubt it. This chapter just makes me feel happier. 
> 
> Thank you guys so much for your support. Not just for reading, and for leaving comments and Kudos, but on the thing I posted yesterday. I'm sorry I'm not replying so much, I still feel like I don't have the energy for it right now, but I do appreciate it. A lot. Thank you guys so so much. I'm going to keep it up because I'm still feeling a little bit like I have been, but thanks to you guys, I'm not feeling as bad. 
> 
> Thank you guys so much. 
> 
> <3 <3 <3
> 
> (Clarifying: Reader and Sans are not together yet in this chapter)


	40. Then

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mettaton POV   
> ****Two years and two months after the breakup****

And you were off, your body bobbing as you zigzagged your way through the hundreds of people that made up this large crowd. The number stapled to your back fluttered in the wind, and Mettaton knew that with your speed, it wouldn't be long before the wind ripped it right off. He pushed hard to keep up with you, having already promised you earlier that he wouldn't extend his legs and cheat, but with every second that passed you grew farther and farther away. The first minute hadn't even passed, and he was still losing sight of you. 

You had promised him earlier that you won't slow your pace for him, but he could still see the hesitation in your movements that only grew with every glance thrown casually over your shoulder. You were too cute. Your teeth were worrying at your bottom lip, cheeks dark with exertion as you restrained yourself. Mettaton waved his hand at you, hoping you would stop holding yourself back, and you increased speed. 

Perhaps he could have tried harder, but Mettaton could not fight the smile as it washed over his features, could not suppress the elation as it rose within him, and he couldn't stop the whimsical look as he gazed at your back. 

Stars, he really did love you.


	41. Now

You sat, hunched over your phone and a vaguely anime-esque mug sitting in your left hand. You swiped to the left, no, now to the right, wait..Back to the left. Left again. Swipe down! You smiled at the antics of this would-be horror game, posed in the familiar Run style of mobile gaming. Its characters were charming, and you liked collecting them as you went. You were doing well, despite only having been playing this game for perhaps an hour. It was fun and kept you focused on something that wasn't your now ex boyfriend, and the former ex, who sat across from you. Occasionally he would shift, dart his eyes to your form and flash a strained grin in your direction, but that was fine.

You had gotten used to these little Sunday competitions with Sans. The two of you would download a new game, in front of each other to make sure the other wasn't cheating or had gotten a head start, and the two of you would play for two hours. Whomever got the highest score won, and while the prize was just a high-five, it still fed into your competitive side like nothing else. Even Undyne's Saturday competitions didn't fill you with as much glee as these did, though perhaps that was because you kept winning those, and you rarely won up against Sans. 

You couldn't blame Undyne for her "Sudden lack of athleticism", that wasn't it. You knew that both of you saw a great decrease in numbers, causing Papyrus to outdo you both in quite a few competitions where one of you should have stolen victory with less than a thought, but the both of you were in pain. It had been nearly a month and a half since you broke up with Mettaton, still reeling from it, and that meant it had been nearly a month and a half since Alphys had been home. Sure, Undyne visited when she could, which meant often, but you knew well that just seeing someone for a few heartbeats a day was not as good as seeing them for hours. 

"*what time 're we at?" You didn't dare glance up, ignoring your skeletal companion for a moment as you continued to swipe on the screen. Sticking out your tongue in frustration, only enough so you could bite at the tip, you continued to work on your game. You were on the sixth level, the highest you'd made it so far, and you knew that Sans wasn't averse to pulling cheap tactics when he felt you were close to beating his current score. It wasn't until you reached the ninth, where you died trying to escape from one of the creatures, that you looked up at the clock on your phone. 

You spared a stare towards Sans, who was grinning fiercely. His focus was entirely on the screen in front of him, and you didn't want to break his concentration. Crossing your legs and leaning forward, elbows rubbing against the table as your hands propped your head up, you waited. 

Your feet tapped in the air to an invisible beat that only you could hear. A soft smile toyed at your lips, though it was as false as it could possibly get. 

You wondered when you would be able to ask Sans about the day the two of you broke up. The day you lost your lover, your boyfriend, your best friend, and if you were dramatic enough, you'd say your world. Not that you didn't find a new person to fill each role he had vacated, but curiosity still beckoned you, crooking its index finger sensually at you and trying to lure you in its direction. 

You shook away the thought. When had you become so..Theatrical? 

Scratch that, you knew when. You also knew who had helped you in that endeavor. 

Shuddering slightly, you returned your attention to the skeleton in front of you. He'd told you that you could ask whenever you felt ready, and a part of you said to just do it, but you knew you weren't ready. Blame it on cowardice, blame it on a lack of nerve, but you knew the reason. The question that had been taunting you since you found out about Mettaton's betrayal: What had Mettaton done that was bad enough for Sans to kick you to the curb without the slightest hint of explanation? It had to have been bad, he had avoided you like the plague until recently. 

Did you want to know? 

Yeah, you decided, you did. 

Did you want to know soon? 

..Well, it could probably wait another few weeks.. 

Sans looked up, a concerned glare flicking his way when you noticed the intense stare he was sending you. "Beat my score, huh?" 

He shook his head. "*if you made it passed level four, then pro'lly not." 

You snickered, though not cruelly. Sliding your phone towards him, you let him gaze upon your impressive score, "Half an hour left to beat this, bone boy." 

He scowled at you, "*original," 

The two of you held this up for a bit, him sending you an agitated scowl and you returning it with a hearty glare. Once you heard the sound of someone knocking on the front door, however, this little staring contest came to an end, the two of you laughing eagerly. "You totally were going to give up and smile!" You tapped your hand on the table, uncrossing your legs. You allowed your chin to fall until you turned your head and dug it into your shoulder to stifle your laughter, Sans having made a grab from your hands once they were placed back on the table. 

"*as if! you were totally about to!" 

"In your dreams, bone boy!" 

"*then i must be dreaming, because you were so about to lose, uh, skin-man." 

"Skin-man?" You snorted, pulling on your joined hands slightly. He pulled back. "Ooh yes, fear me, bone boy. I am the miraculous skin-man, here to replace all of your skinless skin with skin." 

"*nooo-!" He cut himself off with a hearty guffaw, your smile becoming more and more genuine with each time his figure bobbed, shoulders quaking with unconcealed laughter. 

"These nicknames are awfully _skin_ ful, don't you think?" You winked, sending another wave of giggles to roar over his form. 

"*fight me." 

"Can't say I'd be opposed to _pun_ ishing you for that awful score," The knocking sounded again, and you tugged on your hands to wipe away at some tears that had begun to roll over your cheeks. The both of you knew that they weren't from laughter, nor from happiness, but Sans didn't mention it. His phalanges glided across your now damp skin, clinging tightly to your fingers as though fearing you would disappear should he choose to let go. "I gotta go get the door, though, bone boy. Coming?" He nodded, the both of you rising from your chairs to gather at the front door. 

Before you could reach out to open the door with your left hand, Sans still holding your right firmly in his left, Undyne let out a wolfish shriek from the room above you, bounding down the stairs with more energy than she had put forth in recent competitions. On instinct, you pulled away from the door, Sans following your lead without hesitation. 

You didn't have to guess at who was at the door for very long, Undyne grabbing the shorter lizard woman and pressing Alphys into her arms just moments after the buff fish woman had tugged the door open. You squeezed at Sans' phalanges at the blatant display of emotion, the mood surrounding the two hugging monsters proving enough to lift yours greatly. "U-Undyne!!" Alphys screeched, her voice muffled as she pressed hard against her love's chest. 

Honestly? The two were enough to make you swoon. They were too precious. 

You pressed your free hand to your chest, gripping at the skin beneath your clothing. You willed for yourself to be rid of the immense sadness wavering over your heart and soul, this was such a happy moment for all involved. You should be happy. 

You shouldn't be drowning in your own depression, wallowing in your inner loathing like some kind of..Well, you shouldn't be doing that. You should be smiling an honest smile, laughing a genuine laugh, crying joyful tears. You should be happy. 

You just weren't. 

"*-*****!" Alphys' oddly loud voice startled you from your thoughts. "I-uh..I'm s-sorry," Before you could ask her why she was apologizing, before she could explain, a boisterous and curious voice demanded attention, filling the room and giving you shakes. 

"***** is here?" You grimaced, already tugging away from the room to separate yourself from the situation. "Oh, Alphy, you never told me that!" You could hear Mettaton pushing into the door, and you were already gone. Your sudden movement had forced Sans to let go of your hand, and you jerked away from the trio of friends who you held dear, darting for the kitchen at speeds that rivaled Papyrus' beloved race car, or so it seemed. Your trembling was enough to make your knees collapse beneath you, but you quickly got back to your feet each time. You could hear Mettaton speaking to the others, demanding to know where you had gone. 

Undyne had mentioned that Mettaton didn't know where you were staying. 

"My dear," He was shouting now, obviously being held back by someone. You reached the garage door, twisting the knob almost violently. "My darling!" Nope. Nope, nope, nope. 

You forcefully nudged the door open with your shoulder when you noticed Mettaton's voice growing closer. You could not trust yourself to keep your resolve of not trusting him if you were suddenly thrown back in his presence. Especially not now, not when you were still hurting from the abrupt separation, not when you still yearned for his touch, not when you still loved him. 

Your gut twisted in anxious fear as you dodged around the workout equipment, fumbling for the buttons on the side of the wall closest to the garage door. When you hit the right one, you heard the door behind you open, heard the clicking of no doubt fashionable heels as they pounded on the concrete, but those sounds were drowned out as your own feet pounded against the asphalt. You maneuvered around Undyne's car, swiveled around Mettaton's, and finally ran along the pavement. 

You knew that wasn't going to stop him, you could hear him approaching quickly from behind. Damn those legs. 

You spun around quickly, feet squealing in protest as you sharply turned, darting beneath his extended arm when he moved to catch you. "Darling!" He called out, but you ignored it, tears dribbling from your eyes as you ran. You shot a glance to Alphys, who was glaring at the robot currently chasing you, who was also being chased by Undyne. He stood no chance, his nicknames for you suddenly hurking to a half when Undyne jerked him backwards by his middle. 

Your feet stomped on the ground loudly for another few seconds, but you screeched to a halt as Sans came into view, seemingly appearing from nowhere. His chest being your new goal, you flung yourself into his arms, wrapping your arms around his torso and squeezing tight. You knew it was a tad inappropriate considering where you stood with the skeleton, a friend at best, but you didn't care. You had grown weaker in your near inactive state, moping much too much to spend more than a few hours a week toning your body, and you knew you could not run forever. Similarly, you knew that while Undyne was strong, at her current state there was no way she could hold back Mettaton if he really tried hard enough to get to you. 

Sans was by no means the fittest skeleton around, that title belonging to Papyrus, but maybe he could help? 

An arm wrapped around your shoulders, tight and secure. You pressed deeper into his middle, nearly smothering yourself in his jacket before separating as much as you could, him not appearing keen on letting you go while Mettaton was close by. Not that you minded. He was holding you tight enough to offer a deep sense of security, and while you weren't necessarily afraid of Mettaton, your wounds were still fresh and the additional protection wasn't unwanted. 

"*hey, bud." 

You could hear Mettaton's metal scraping, was he grinding his teeth? "Hello, _darling_." Mettaton's voice dripped with venom, a harsh click letting you know that he was drawing closer. "You've gotten quite close to *****, haven't you?" You could practically hear the snarl Mettaton was likely wearing. 

"*yeah, guess so." 

"Mind _getting off of him_?" 

"*yeah, kinda." 

You turned in Sans' grasp, his arm loosening only so that you could face your would-be tormentor. His grip on your shoulder tightened, arm draped across your chest protectively. Mettaton looked absolutely livid, but upon seeing your gaze on him, his expression softened a bit. Undyne began to struggle a great deal as the robot began to step closer to you, arms already extending to reach out for you though he was several lengths away. "Darling," You flinched, and he winced at that, but continued forward nonetheless. "Darling, I've missed you so much. Can we please talk? _Please_?" 

He sounded so broken, his voice distorting further with every moment you didn't answer. You looked up at Sans, his gaze still trained on the robot who was only drawing closer, and you lifted your right hand so that it could curl into the one holding onto your left shoulder. Turning back to Mettaton, you answered, "No." 

He looked startled at that declaration, and you could already feel your heart tearing from your chest. "B-but darling, _my_ -" He looked pointedly up at Sans before returning his gaze back to you, "--Darling, I miss you so much. You miss me, too, don't you?" 

You weren't going to give him the satisfaction of knowing that you did. Not until you no longer did. "You should get out of here, Mettaton. Be Metta _gone_." You felt Sans' tough composure break at that, your body shifting with his laughter. You forced a smile at that. Eager on feeling his laughter rumble through your body again, you started up again, staring up at your skeletal wall for reassurance that you were going to feel that sensation again. "I don't want to see you at dusk, I don't want to see you at Metta _dawn_." 

"Darling, love, please do not." 

Sans was openly snickering at that, trying to keep his gaze on the robot who had halted briefly. Even Undyne was giggling at that, and if you strained to hear it, you would notice that Alphys had joined in, as well. "I'm not going to discuss anything with you, I don't care what tactics you try to use, brains, or Metta _brawn_." 

"My love, please." 

"I'm done being your Metta _pawn_." 

"My love. Please." 

You were grinning openly, now. Sans was staring down at you with a fantastic awe littering his expression, phalanges tangling with your fingers as he pushed you closer to him. He was waiting for more, though honestly, you were running out of ideas. Undyne was cackling, and Alphys was sporting a grin to rival yours, her shaking shoulders the only evidence of her laughing at your jokes. Mettaton sounded strained, as though he feared he was losing you. 

Maybe he already had. "Go away, Mettaton. Get off of my Metta _lawn_." 

"I am not on your lawn, darling. I'm on the sidewalk. Please stop it." 

"Whatever." You lifted your free hand to your lips after wrestling it free from where it had been trapped against Sans. "Still. I'm getting tired, Metta _yawn_." 

Sans was flashing such an ecstatic smile now, you wanted to scour your brain for more jokes so you could see it longer, but sadly you had run out of material. You didn't need to turn in the slightest to know that Mettaton was nearly upon the two of you, now. You could spot his closeness in your peripherals, Undyne having lessened her struggle due to her deep chortling, which echoed off of the almost empty streets like a cannon. 

Now less than a step away, Alphys spoke up on your behalf. "M-Mettaton, maybe you should go." You turned just in time to see the aforementioned robot swivel his head to glare at his creator. "You we-were just supposed to, uh, d-drop me off. Not t-try to attack ***-*****." 

"I wasn't trying to attack him!" Mettaton exasperatedly sighed, his hands throwing up dramatically. "I just wanted to _talk_. Maybe hug, maybe kiss, but the primary goal upon finding that he was here was to _talk_ to him! Before that, yes, I was just here to drop you off, but the sight of you and Undyne was simply too cute to stay in the car," You narrowed your eyes at him. He was lying. "I just had to come over!" You wondered how you had been so easy to spot this lie when you had struggled to find the other, much larger one. "And then you said *****'s name, and I just.." He trailed off, looking at you. 

Before you could speak up, Alphys broke through the break in conversation. You looked at her to find her shooting a proud smile your way, "B-bye, Metta _gone_!" 

Undyne lost it, dropping her hold on Mettaton to fall to the pavement. "Dead!" She screamed, most likely disturbing the neighbors. "So dead! I am dead! Woo!" 

You snuggled closer to Sans, pride for Alphys swelling inside of you. "*heh, yeah. get off my Metta _lawn_." 

"I'm on no one's lawn, you boyfriend thief!" 

From where she was situated on the ground, Undyne cried out in between gasps and laughs, "Y-yeah, punk!" Mettaton shot her a cruel glare, daring her to join in. He didn't know Undyne that well if he thought that she wouldn't rise to the challenge. "You can't use him as a Metta _pawn_ anymore!" 

"*geet dunked on, loser." 

You snickered from behind your hand, watching as Mettaton spun on his heels, stomping away from the trio consisting of Sans, Undyne, and yourself. Your friends were so wicked cool, they were great. You caught a hint of Mettaton's darkening cheeks as he made his way back to the car, throwing it open without hesitation and tumbling inside. 

Huh, you'd never seen him do that himself. Usually there was a person for that. 

On that note, you'd never seen him drive such a modest car. Expensive was still written all over the model, but it wasn't the standard limousine. Huh. 

You watched him pull out of the driveway, both Alphys and Undyne still beside themselves, their forms still quaking as they clutched at their sides. From behind you, it was easy to notice Sans trying very hard to stifle his laughter. 

Man, when did you get friends this cool? 

You felt a smile growing over your features, a genuine one, and you didn't fight it. You deserved this. You deserved friends like them, and you deserved happiness like this. 

You ignored the aching throb coming from your chest as Mettaton drove out of sight. If you had paid it any mind, you would have noticed that, in the company of all of your friends and stupid jokes, it was becoming a little bit more bearable.


	42. Now

You pressed your back firm against Sans' rib cage, a deep sigh eliciting from your throat at the added pressure. His legs were crooked over your outstretched ones, trapping you against him, though you knew it wasn't necessary. You weren't going anywhere anytime soon. Not until you get passed level twelve, at least. 

Sans' skull was placed directly next to yours, him having decided that peering over your shoulder was the best way to monitor your progress. It would have been easier for the both of you if he had just settled on keeping his mandible atop the crown of your skull, as he had been fine with doing earlier, but he had shifted over once you began to approach level eleven, likely to mess you up. His arms were situated across your waist, holding you as close to him as was possible, and his left cheekbone was flush against your right one. It made playing the game a bit harder, but you were up to the challenge. 

A focused smirk had found a home on your face as you raced by digital spiders and ducked under leaping mannequins, your tongue wedged between your front teeth as you played. Usually after the competitions between you and Sans, the both of you would delete whatever app had been downloaded and would carry on, never really being able to prepare for the next competition, as the apps were chosen at random the day of. Due to prior events of today, however, you and Sans had decided to add another half hour, during which Sans had successfully beaten your score. 

Though the little rivalry for the top score was over, you still wanted to get passed his score. Plus this game was mildly addicting. 

You had a feeling that this app would find a temporary home on your phone for at least a couple of months. 

"*left," Sans' voice rumbled loud and deep, the vibrations from his chest gurgling against your back in a manner that was not unpleasant. You shot him a quick glance, but did as he commanded. "*mm, right." And so you swiped right. "*jump? i think there's a barrel coming." You watched the screen, waiting for the aforementioned obstacle. It's presence became known to the both of you a second later, and you swiped upwards. "*cool. left." Left. "*uhh..down. yeah, down." Down. "*hmm." 

His voice was more of a purr as he contemplated your next move for you, and you smiled at that. "Why're ya helping me?" You asked, too focused on the task at hand to pay your grammar or pronunciations any mind. 

You felt him shrug, the movement shifting you forwards slightly. "*uh'un'oh. down." You swiped down. The checkpoint to pass level ten was just in front of your character, now. You fully expected him to mislead you, to give you the wrong direction so you wouldn't come close to his score, so you watched the screen with an intensity that would burn through the phone if you weren't careful. "*ri-wait. no. up, then right." 

The antagonists careened towards your digital character at random, moving in front of them rapidly now. Your character darted passed the checkpoint, and you felt the corners of your lips tilt skywards slightly. 

It was so silly to be happy about this, but you didn't care. 

"*uh. up?" You swiped up. "*heh. cool. go right. okay, good. right again." You pressed your cheek against the smooth bone that rubbed against your skin, unintentionally nuzzling him as you moved unconsciously with the character. He nuzzled back, though his movements were intentional and full of purpose. "*nice, nice. swag." 

Before he could speak again, you snorted, "Swag?" Your brow furrowed in amusement, "Who even says that? Man," You hunched your shoulder, nudging beneath his mandible, "You've been hanging around Undyne a bit much, huh?" 

"*sue me." 

"Maybe," You missed the blush adorning his cheekbones, too engrossed in the game in front of you to pay him any mind. The checkpoint to pass level eleven was nearing, and you felt giddy as you saw it. Sans let out a throaty hum, turning his face away from the screen and pressing it into the crook of your neck. "Y'know, I might just do that if you keep trying to distract me." 

"*hmm." His teeth glided across your soft skin, and you categorized it as an accidental kiss. You passed the checkpoint, shoulders rising in excitement as you pressed passed it. Your digital character sped up, and you found delighted squeaks murmuring passed your lips in anticipation. 

His arms tightened around your waist and you elbowed him lightly. "Quit trying to make me die, I am so beating your score." Another accidental brush against your nape with his teeth, "I am so close, now. I'll be on level thirteen before you can blink."

You were on the level he had died on, you just needed to make it a bit further. "*left." You swiped left.

Your character slammed into a wall and died. 

It then dawned upon you that you had moved impulsively. He wasn't even looking up from where his face was situated against your neck! He couldn't see the screen! You grumbled at your own actions, shifting slightly to pull your neck away from his face. "You totally tried that." 

He gave a halfhearted shrug, moving to press his face back against your skin. Throwing your phone so that it lay an arms length away, you plopped onto the ground, dragging him down with you. "*not gon'a try again?" 

"Nah," He let out another hum, tucking an arm beneath your torso and using the one currently sitting atop your right hip to draw you close to him. His arms snaked tightly around your waist, your shirt riding up a bit at his ministrations. You sighed, fingers twitching as you eyed your phone. "You think we'll ever be as close as we were?" 

The question had slipped out without a thought. When it registered in your mind, Sans was already answering. It was too late to pull it away now, "*'think we're pretty _close_ now." 

To add emphasis, he curled his larger body around yours a little bit more. "Very funny," He spoke up to let you know that he knew it was. "No, but, like, seriously." You turned so that you were laying on your back, and Sans moved his arms to accommodate for your new position. "You were my best friend way back when. You, uh.." The question had come out without warning, but you found yourself rambling your thoughts now. "You were the first one, besides my parents, to not only accept me for me, but to also encourage me." You pressed your right ear against the floor, facing him. "I mean, we probably won't ever become best friends again. I have Undyne for that, and you have..uh..Someone. Grillby probably. But do you ever think we could become friends? Like, good friends?" 

Sans didn't hesitate to nod. 

You moved back to stare at the ceiling, "Cool." He waited, you knew that he sensed that there were more questions on your tongue. You didn't ask them. "Because, uh..Skeleton?" You smiled up at the ceiling, not acknowledging his huffed response. "You are my friend." 

Silence hung heavy between the two of you, and it stayed that way for several minutes. You didn't mind. His bony arms were a comforting presence that helped ground you, both metaphorically and literally. It was nice. 

After what had to be over ten minutes, Sans' voice shattered the silence, "*do you wanna know what happened?" 

You didn't have to ask what he was talking about. You knew. 

You felt the urge to talk with him about how things had been before, about what had happened before all of this. About the meals the two of you shared, the parties you went to, the dances and the endless movie marathons. You wanted to talk to him about when he had been your best friend, and by extension, when he had been your boyfriend. The former term stayed the most important of the two throughout your entire relationship, he was your best friend first, and your boyfriend second. You wanted to tell him that. 

Instead, your voice croaked out, full of more confidence than you felt, "Yeah."


	43. Then

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ****Two years and three months after the breakup****

The soft click of a camera turning on. 

Static filled the air for a moment as the blurry image on the screen began to even out, shapes becoming more distinguished, voices becoming clearer. 

The video was of you and Mettaton, still celebrating your one year anniversary, despite the date being almost three months passed that. 

Mettaton was hugging you close, seeming oblivious to the cameras, but a hidden knowledge gleaming in his eyes told the viewer that he was not as oblivious as he appeared. His words were almost too quiet for the camera to pick up, and you remained silent as he spoke. "I missed you," 

He was talking about how often you had been gone to train for the marathon. His form was curled around yours, his head laying on your chest and his arms snaked around you, gripping like a vice. He was putting on a show for the camera, that much was obvious. 

Only the sound of rushing wind could be heard through the video feed, the sudden gust of air blocking out most of his words for a solid two minutes. Finally, his voice could be heard, though a bit strained. "I don't think I'll be up for another marathon anytime soon, not if it takes you away from me again," 

Your voice finally entered the air, the sound a dull chirp, still mostly drowned out by the wind. ".. _Mettathon_..?"

"No," Mettaton confirmed, his chin moving downwards for a moment in a small nod. "Not if it means we're separated for as long as we were," His voice held volume and gusto, making it easily heard over the wind, which was starting to die down. "And darling?" He was looking up at you, now. "That was much too long." 

The camera couldn't pick it up, but it was clear that you were agreeing with him. Your arm draped lazily over his shoulders, squeezing tight for a moment. You opened your mouth to speak, but the sound was again cut off as another odd buzz of static filled the audio sensors. The camera beeped as though agitated, the battery was low whenever this video was taken. 

The last image seen before the screen went black was Mettaton rising, looming over your form with the intent to place his lips over yours. He had just begun to descend to make this dream a reality when the screen went black. 

Thumbnails for other videos popped up, but with a click of a button, the one that had just played started over again.


	44. Then

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ****Two years and four months after the breakup****

A few taps of metallic fingers against a screen, and another video was put on display. Several hours had been put into watching the small little screen, enough that the camera had to be transported to the nearest charger so that the viewer could continue watching. 

The camera blipped for a moment, and the familiar sound of erratic static filtered through through the small speakers. The image evened out, and it started with you rushing over a cliff, your voice screeching out loudly, "Geronimo!" 

Or, that is what you would have said, if you hadn't begun to fall. Your screams stopped trying to form a word after the first syllable. The person carrying the camera rushed over to where you had dove down, and the little screen zoomed in. 

It captured your face almost perfectly, your speed making the image come out a little blurry, but not terribly so. The viewer could see that the sudden rush left you breathless, but you were smiling anyway. With a bit of effort, you extended your hand and crooked a finger to the camera, enticing them, wanting them to come join you. It was clear that you knew that they couldn't, but that mischievous smile and gleeful look in your eyes certainly was making it hard for the viewer to believe that. 

You turned your back to the camera, arching slightly with your arms extended just before you splashed beneath the waves. Your loud whoops and calls could be heard before you could be seen, the camera having to swivel far off to the left to capture you in its sights again. 

It didn't need to, but the image zoomed in again, the sight of your ecstatic and energized smile coming out very blurry, but it could be seen. 

Just before the image faded to black, you called out, " _Metta-_." 

The image cut out.


	45. Then

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ****Two years and five months after the breakup****

The image did not need to move to static and white noise did not need to pour from the speakers, a rush of skin, and you were running faster than the camera could move. You were weaving through bodies as though they were just obstacles, pressing passed them with a practiced ease. 

The camera was fully charged to capture this moment. 

The owner of the camera had to move through a crowd of their own to keep up with you, not wanting you to disappear from their sights. You were so fast, the crowd was too large, and you were gone within seconds. 

The last thing the camera saw before being shut off was your jovial smile flashing back, no specific direction receiving your grin. You were gone after the camera had shut off.


	46. Then

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ****Two years and six months after the breakup****

The static lasted longer, this time. The image didn't clear up even after a minute had passed, but your voice cut through the white noise. "..Close, aren't we?" The sound of shuffling blocked out the response, fingers moving over the microphone by accident. 

The image cleared up just in time to see your relieved smile, a hidden sadness being revealed through your eyes before you closed them. You reclined in your seat, hands folded in your lap. "Good. I can't wait." 

"I can't wait, either," The owner of the camera, Mettaton, responded. Your lips twitched, a more genuine smile coming through, but it was quickly erased from your face as you spoke up again. 

"So, how's work?" 

Your lips dipped downwards at the corners, obviously not voicing whatever it is that you had wanted to. The camera bobbed up and down, the image shaking almost violently from the movement, and you became blurry. A metallic elbow came into view, obscuring your person as Mettaton propped his head up with his hands. "Boring, darling. You're simply not there enough for it to be interesting." 

Your image was still blocked off. "Yeah?" 

"Yes, darling," 

A huff, from what was assumed to be you, and your voice came out again. It broke halfway through the middle, the audio cutting out as the camera signaled to the owner of it that it was dying, "Maybe we'll have....That would be nice, huh?" 

"Yes, darling," Mettaton purred, picking up the camera.

You let out a startlingly loud laugh, "You're always recording me!" 

Mettaton's smirk could practically be heard as he cooed, "Of course, doll. I want to capture every moment spent with you," 

"Why don't you just use your eyes? The cameras in them, I mean. That thing," You pointed to the camera. "Looks like it's going to break if you so much as jostle it." 

"I want our moments to be special, something that can be projected on screens and in films," You smiled at that, no longer being blocked off. "But I don't want to be projecting them. I want to be watching them with you." 

Your voice sounded muffled as the camera began to die, "Sou...Fair.." 

The camera had been used to record several things that day and had yet to see a charger or have its batteries replaced. 

It died, the last image being of your contemplative face. Your teeth were worrying at your bottom lip, but the corners of your mouth were quirked up in a smile anyway. 

The viewer tapped the replay button.


	47. Then

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ****Two years and seven months after the breakup****

White noise filtered through the speakers, occasionally drowned out as something grated against the microphone. You appeared on the other side of the camera, cheek pressed against the heel of your palm in thought as you fiddled with something with the other hand. Your smile flashed, and your voice came out grainy and distorted as you yelped out, "Aha!" 

You pulled away from where you had been situated terribly close to the camera, scooting back until your entire body was in view. You were seated on a lush carpet, a bed sitting behind you and looming over your person with a marvelous grandeur. The drapes could be seen far off, their elegance on display for the viewer to see, and a few sides and edges of large and expensive dressers could be seen. 

There was nothing in that room as priceless or as valuable as you, though. 

You were squinting at the screen, leaning back and hunching your shoulders in a helpless shrug. Your lips unscrewed from the previously pursed position that they had held, easing into a gentle smile. Your eyes were lit up with pure elation as you gasped, "Hi, _Mettaton_ , baby!" Your soft chirping was hushed as another voice, far off and barely able to be heard, sounded. 

"Yes, handsome?" The robotic voice sounded as though it was coming closer with every syllable. 

You looked to grow a bit sheepish at that, leaning towards the voice and calling out, "Just a minute, babe! Don't come in yet!" You cast an apologetic glance over at the camera, shifting your body so that it went back to its earlier, less awkward sitting position. Your hands were clasping your knees as you grinned, voice notably quieter than it had been moments prior. "Hey, _Mettaton_ ," Your purr gave the viewer shivers. "I hope you see this soon! You're always taking videos of me and for me, I want to make one for you!" 

Your fingers squeezed at your kneecaps as you moved forward, that smile never faltering. "You remember that video you made for me? Not the one with this old thing," You gestured to the camera, "But with your ocular ones. I'm being vague, aren't I? Ah..Ha ha," Your cheeks began to flush and you looked away from the camera. "You make so many videos for me, babe." Your eyes looked back at the screen. "I'm talkin' about the one from maybe a month or two ago? When you were telling me how I made you feel. You didn't say that you love me, but I know you do," Your voice had adopted a teasing tone at that last bit. 

The viewer was captivated. You spoke again. "I think about that one a lot. I always want to ask if you'll show it to me again, but..Ah.." You giggled nervously, fingers loosening their grip on your skin so that they could wring together. "Well, I don't want to seem lame." 

"Anyway, babe, I wanted to make a video that made you feel as special as you make me feel. You mentioned a while back, I don't remember when, that you wanted to use this camera to capture everything? I want it to capture my love for you." 

"I love you, _Mettaton_. I love you so so much. You are my stars, you are my skies and you are my heavens. You're everything that's right in this world and you're everything that's right with me," You scratched at the back of your head. "Is that cheesy? Probably. But it's true. You are my everything. You are more valuable than any of this," You swept your arm around in the air, gesturing to all the belongings that the camera could and could not capture on its small screen. "The memories we have made are more breathtaking than anything you could ever show me. You could take me around the world and show me the most amazing sights that this world has to offer, and nothing would compare to you. Nothing could ever compare to the memories you have gifted me with." 

A dopey smile took over your lips, fingers entwining and hands wringing together. Your eyes were downcast for a heartbeat or two, but you quickly rose them to the screen again, a passionate determination set in your gaze. "It's not even the memories. It's you, _Mettaton_ , babe." 

The viewer placed a metallic hand over their heart, tugging at it dramatically as they watched the video play. 

Your voice was eroding to static, but you could still be heard clearly. "Whenever I'm with you, everything is just so.." Your hands waved in the air spastically. "How can I even describe it? Your voice threatens to turn me into a puddle every time I hear it," You sent a fond glance over at where the voice from earlier had come from. "You paralyze me with every touch, your very gaze sets my skin on fire, and baby, I must be a masochist because I love the way you burn me." Your cheeks were so dark, now. "I love you. Aah, I'm being so corny right now, aren't I?" 

"I want you to know what you mean to me, though. I want you to know that I can die now and not worry about heaven or anything, I'm in my own perfect world whenever I'm by your side. I want you to know that the harshest of storms could never compare to the turbulence you give my heart when you kiss me. I want you to know that every moment you're not by me is my own personal hell," 

Your smile was so cute, now. You looked so happy, it almost felt as though the camera was not capturing your happiness in its full glory. "And your laugh," You looked as though you would melt, eyes drooping in dreamy recollection. You stayed like that for a moment, shoulders hunched and hands poised in the air from where they had awkwardly been tugging at each other. After a minute, you startled back into action, "Wh-Whoops! Sorry about that." 

"You can't imagine what you do to me, _Mettaton_. You can't fathom it. I love you so much" A dull blipping sounded, and your face scrunched up in confusion for a moment. When you realized that it was the camera, you crawled on your hands and knees towards the device. Your leg, clothed in loose and baggy jeans, covered the camera's view as you muttered to yourself, "Where is that damned charger?" 

The feed cut out right after, and the viewer laughs, but does not strike at the replay button as they had for the various other videos. Instead, he continued to peruse through the hundreds of videos, positively enthralled.


	48. Then

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ****Two years and eight months after the breakup****

Without warning, loud audio began to pour from the speakers and you were thrown into view. The static had hardly cleared, but you were already the center of attention. The fuzz took away the color of your attire for a heartbeat, but it faded away almost as quickly as you had appeared. You were grinning deviously at whoever was above the camera, your arm extended and palm facing skywards. You crooked a finger towards them, voice coming out soft and odd as you called, "Put that thing away, _Mettaton_ , let's dance," 

You whirled around as if to emphasize your sentence. Your movements were sluggish and your words slurred, but the camera shut off regardless. 

The viewer scrolled through more videos.


	49. Then

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ****Two years and nine months after the breakup****

The battery was recently charged for this recording, as there was only a brief moment where white noise filtered from the speakers. "I found your video," A robotic voice called out from behind the camera. You were on the screen, languidly laid out with your arms situated behind your head and your left leg placed over your right. You had a sleepy smile placed atop your lips, and you sluggishly moved your gaze from the ceiling to whomever was behind the camera. 

"What video?" You teased, excitement lingering in your gaze as you woke up a bit more. 

That metallic voice sounded again, "The only one you've made me," 

Your smile morphed into a smirk, and you spoke again, "You'll have to be more specific." 

A deep chuckle, laced with a tinny echo, "Will I, darling?" You nodded, your smirk melting away to reveal a positively ecstatic grin. Your eyes were alert, now, heavily tinted with adoring glee. The camera lurched forwards, the screen almost burying into your side as whoever was handling it nuzzled their face against yours. "The one where you told me how much I mean to you," 

You squeaked in surprise as a body wrapped over top yours, the camera being moved again, though this time carelessly. It was facing your feet now, kicked away without a thought by whoever had previously held it. It couldn't be seen, but it was obvious that you had reached for the camera. You picked it up, with some difficulty as whoever was on top of you didn't seem keen on releasing any part of your body that was covered and your left arm lay trapped beneath their hold, and hoisted up the heavier object so that it faced you. 

Your face was dark with a heavy blush as Mettaton nuzzled into the crook of your neck. He was placing kisses there that wouldn't have appeared so innocent to an outside observer, but the viewer knew that the robot was just showing affection. He nipped almost hungrily at your skin, a throaty purr releasing from his lips in between bites, "Darling, you are so precious, you know that?" 

"You're just saying that because I'm your number one fan," Your smile was contagious and the viewer found himself with a similar grin. 

"No, I'm saying it because _I_ am _your_ number one fan." Mettaton finished his sentence with a particularly hard bite, though not one that would hurt you, and you shivered as though his lips had electrified you. Your lips separated in a shocked gasp as Mettaton nuzzled harder into your skin, his movements promising that indents would be left in your skin when he was finished. 

All sadness of events years earlier was washed from your eyes. Your smile was genuine, as it had been for nearly two years now. 

The camera nearly slipped from your grasp as Mettaton slid his arms out from beneath you, cold fingers digging into your sides as he held you. You bit your lip before whispering, " _Mettaton_." Your voice was alluring, and when it called out his name, the viewer found himself shaking with the thrills it left. It wasn't sensual in nature, nor was it provocative in the least. Your had just sounded so unbearably happy, your voice raising an octave to express your immense pleasure. 

The Mettaton on screen was quaking with the pure elation your voice had elicited. You cooed and breathed his name over and over again until he could take it no more, tearing himself from where he had been so comfortably pressed against you to dive and slam his lips into yours. The smile on your lips when he pulled away suggested that you had been hoping for that outcome. You arched your body into his, crashing into him and shaking the camera. 

You flipped so that you were the one straddling him, "I want to look back on this moment and see your face, _Mettaton_." Mettaton shot a wink at the camera. "But I also want to be able to see it on camera." The robot tilted his head to stare passed the camera, up at you. His lips quirked into a beautiful smile, one that wasn't related to his splendid acting career, but instead directly tied to the happiness you brought him. 

The screen turned black after a few seconds. 

The viewer hit the replay button almost violently.


	50. Then

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ****Two years and ten months after the breakup****

The screen cleared away the fuzzy static just in time to see you look up from your book. You sat with your back resting against the headboard, knees brought up to create something for the spine of your book to lay against. The hood draped over your head partially obscured your face, and you gazed up at the camera with a sleepy expression. "Yes, babe?" Your fingers slid across the pages of your book before tugging at the corners of both pages, shutting the book. Your hands stayed pressed against the hard cover. 

Your lips twisted into an amused smile as you quirked a brow at the device before moving your eyes skywards. "What are we doing for our two year anniversary?" 

Your smile widened at that, a hum of pleasure flinging from your throat in a hushed purr, "That is coming up, isn't it?" The camera couldn't see, but your next response gave the impression that whomever was speaking with you had nodded, "I'm not sure. I don't want a repeat of last year, I want something special. What do you want to do?" 

"I asked you, handsome," 

You brought one hand away from the book to press your index finger against your chin. You looked to the ceiling, almost completely lost in thought, before turning back. Your gaze was pointed away from the camera, but your smile was in plain view. "I guess it depends on whether or not your producers want to showcase the date, again," 

"I won't let them if you don't want them to." 

You moved the book off to a desk on your right side. Scooting over so you were closer to Mettaton, and by extension the camera, you shifted until you were almost entirely beneath the covers. The camera angled downwards to capture you. "I don't mind. We have a few months to decide, right?" A pause. "Yeah. Let's decide later, or maybe do something spur of the moment?" 

"Whatever you want, darling." 

You stuck your tongue out at the camera, and the image faded to black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fifty chapters. 
> 
> Whoa. 
> 
> It took fifty chapters to get to a word count close to IWAP. 
> 
> ;l


	51. Then

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ****Two years and eleven months after the breakup****

It was evident that this video clip had been transferred over from some other device, the first few seconds projecting without an audio or visual errors and the video playing with crystal clarity. There were more pixels in the images, too, producing a quality that only something created by the admirable scientist Alphys could have managed. 

Your blush was fierce as you peered up at the camera, a drooping scowl quivering as you put up the effort to maintain it. Your brows were furrowed in an anger that did not seep into your eyes, the orbs relaying nothing less than mild annoyance and perhaps a bit of embarrassment. Your lips wiggled as you fought back the smile, occasionally losing the battle and allowing a soft and sheepish grin to overtake your features before stifling it back down into that agitated frown. 

Every bit of your face could be seen. The camera was producing a quality that was not its own, something that grew to be more and more obvious as the video played on. " _Mettaton_ ," You scoffed after a minute, your voice not distorted or grainy in the least. "I know you're recording me," A hand reached up to thunk the device capturing this moment, and a quick black screen told the viewer that Mettaton had blinked. "Your eyes are red, you nerd," 

You had begun to spend even more time with Undyne, adopting her slurs and slang. Even when you tried to sound annoyed, your voice gurgled out in pleasing tones, of which betrayed your slight annoyance. You tried to conceal it by grunting and turning away from the camera, but it did nothing to hide your true feelings. Had this moment been recorded on the camera it was displayed on, perhaps your acting would have won out and the scene would have appeared to have an angrier mood than it possessed. 

It was a good thing that it had been captured on something else. 

You squirmed from beneath the camera, two metal hands placed on either side of your head to trap you against the sheets. A boisterous whisper greeted your words, "I know, darling, I know." You let out a muffled whine, attempting to slide out from beneath your captor. Something pushed you back, however, your body gliding across the sheets until your head again sat between the hands. You pouted, raising your hands to press against Mettaton, but he didn't budge. 

The camera shifted to look at your hands for a moment, making it obvious that this scene had been captured using Mettaton's oculars, before returning to your face. The camera captured every outline, every blemish that dotted your skin from your training with Undyne, every spat of dirt and slight scuff that had come from whatever activities your day had been full of. You let out a hum, which died out towards the end and became something akin to a whine. "You're such a nerd," You muttered, turning further away from the camera until your shoulders pressed against Mettaton's chest. "You big loser." 

"Someone's pouting?" The rich metallic voice of Mettaton sounded, the speakers thrumming lightly as if an effort had to be made to capture the sound, "How befitting of a big baby," Mettaton teased, moving to nuzzle you. The screen went black and the sound of metal on skin shuffled over the audio ports, a sound that was grating and unpleasant to all who could not appreciate the allure that came with it. 

"'Least I'm not a loser," The darkness did not let up at your words, but the sound of metal against skin did become louder and more erratic. "You loser." 

"My, you _are_ pouting, aren't you?" 

"My, you _are_ a loser, aren't you?" You mocked, your sneer light with the lack of will to harm. An image came through the screen again as Mettaton pulled away and opened his eyes. You thunked a hand lightly against his temple, the action shaking the camera slightly, "Turn it off, _Mettaton_. 'M not in the mood." 

The screen died out upon your request.


	52. Then

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mettaton POV  
> ****Three years after the breakup****

Mettaton had abandoned the camera for the night. His fingers tangled in yours, he took immense pleasure and delight in looking up at the stars with you, even if he wasn't focused on capturing your expression. He eyed the twinkling lights, they were so far away, weren't they? He was glad. Mettaton was a jealous monster, and the idea of another star could potentially be close enough to capture your attention for more than just a night made him twinge with phantom envy. 

No such star was closer than he was. Even the sun had to disappear beneath the horizon, but he was always here. Would always be here. 

His grasp on you tightened reflexively, and you squeezed his hand in response. Your joined hands were raised above both of your heads as the two of you laid on the grass, serendipitous silence waning over the scene. Your eyes were fixed on the stars, and his were as well. His attention, however, was on you. He didn't think about the blades of grass that were grating against his perfect metal body, he didn't think about the dirt that was no doubt smudging into his cracks and divots, he didn't think about the stares that he was likely receiving, being so out in the open and all. To put it plainly, he didn't think of anything that wasn't you. 

He thought about your name, which sounded like the holiest of prayers when it dribbled from his lips. He thought about your voice, which was lovelier than anything this world could ever hope to offer. He thought about your eyes, full of kindness and hidden despair that had been absent for, thankfully, a long time now. He thought about your smile, which stole away his thoughts almost every second he was away from you and he found an almost alarming amount of time spent on his part on trying to decipher how to make that smile appear again. 

He thought about your laugh, which filled his thoughts and became the centerfold of his dreams whenever he slept. He thought about your fingers, which he hoped would be forever entwined with his though he knew that was impossible. He thought about your skin, which electrified at his touch and shorted out his circuits whenever your skin lingered on his too long. He thought about your breath, which he made a conscious effort to constantly steal away. He thought about your eyelids, which kept sadness from being revealed whenever you slept. 

He thought about your everything. From your hair to your toes and everything in between. He wasted away countless hours just wading through the thoughts that were almost impossibly filled with you and everything that made you who you were. Are. He thought about your little quirks, he thought about your goals and your ambitions, he thought about everything. And it wasn't until your hold on him loosened and you began to snore lightly at his side that he thought about how happy you made him. 

Just being in the same room with you could lift his spirits like nothing else. Just knowing that he would come home and you would be in his arms made him feel like he could conquer more than just the entertainment world. Just..You. You made him a better monster than he could have ever been. 

He would never deserve you, but maybe you deserved him? A being who could make you so indescribably happy, a being who you referred to as the light of your world, a being who made you feel safe and secure, surely that was a being fitting of one such as yourself? You loved him with your entire heart and then some, you gave him and this relationship all you could, and he did the same. Mettaton was greedy, possessive over you in subtle ways you would never pick up on if he was careful, but you didn't seem to mind. 

You smiled for him more than you smiled for Undyne. 

You laughed with him more than you laughed with Papyrus. 

You hugged him more than you hugged Toriel. 

You talked with him more than you talked with Asgore. 

You shared more emotions with him than you did with Shryen. 

You listened to him more than you listened to Napstablook. 

You joked with him more than you joked with Madjick. 

You cleaned with him more than you cleaned with Woshua. 

You danced with him more than you danced with Muffet. 

You paid him more attention than you paid Chilldrake. 

You ate with him more than you ate with Grillby. 

You read with him more than you read with Temmie. 

You gossiped with him more than you did with Catty. 

You shopped with him more than you did with Bratty. 

You touched him more than you touched Lesser Dog. 

You snuggled him more than you did Greater Dog. 

You sat with him more than you sat with Annoying Dog. 

Mettaton never questioned that you loved him more than you had ever loved Sans. 

Moving on his side to gather you close, Mettaton carefully lifted you up. You pressed against his metallic body unconsciously, mumbling something about the "Damned stars", and Mettaton knew that he deserved you. You looked so comfortable in his arms, he could deserve no less, and there was no possible mate in any universe that could have potentially been greater than you. He loved you, he deserved you. His prior actions be damned. If anything, the amount of effort he had placed in getting you to this very spot was justified. It hadn't been in the moment, perhaps it had been a mite silly, but it was justified now and that was all that mattered. 

He walked over to his car, sure to jostle you as little as possible. The driver leaped from his door to open the passenger door, and Mettaton shot a grateful smile in his direction. The driver bowed slightly and bowed before shutting the door. Mettaton heard the man enter his door and felt the car hum as it began to thrum to life. Positioning you so that you sat with your head against his chest, Mettaton lowered his head until his lips rested against your skull. He placed many kisses on that spot, wishing he could instead be kissing your lips. 

He would not wake you, though. The day had been full of exhausting events and activities for anyone who had a stamina, something the robot was lacking and thankful for that. You were tired, even if you hadn't admitted it before. 

He would not wake you. 

Speaking loud enough for those always present and always invisible camera, Mettaton whispered to you, "Happy anniversary, darling."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will likely be written over the note posted over a week ago, so be on the lookout for that update! 
> 
> Thanks for your continued support! <3!


	53. Then

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ****Three years and one month after the breakup****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't want to get rid of all of your supportive comments, so I'm just writing over this chapter <3! Thank you all so much for helping me feel better! <3 <3 <3!!!

The audio crackled as you thrust your hand into the camera. "Stars above, you're so annoying," You giggled, your fingers forcing the camera to dip downwards. Your rugged and torn jeans came into view, and the camera lost focus. "Always recording everything!" Your laughter bubbled into your voice before erupting. The gleeful sounds of your immense pleasure as they hiccuped from your lips fed into the camera with ease and had the viewer smiling wide. You were mildly agitated by the constant cameras, that much was evident, but it had only dampened your mood slightly. 

You pushed the camera further, and this time your shoes came into view. A robotic voice sounded, full of pleasure and a hint of mischief, "Darling, it's impossible not to! Your expressions, so eloquent and full of beauty that can only be done justice if captured on screen! If displayed on the largest screen this world has to offer!" The voice paused and the camera was jostled greatly as whomever was holding it dived into theatrics worthy of applause. "Not even then, my stunning star! No camera could ever hope to do you justice, but it can try!" 

Metallic hands were thrown before the camera in what was likely supposed to be a symbolic gesture. It was lost to the viewer, even though he had made those motions just months prior. The viewer idly wondered what was holding the camera up, both hands in sight of the camera. "You are so lame, you know that?" The camera lifted to your face, a dark blush adorning your cheeks but your smile as apparent as ever. You smiled so often, the viewer wondered if your cheeks hurt. 

"Darling, do not belittle my elegant and joyous performance with vain attempts to stab at my ego," The voice sounded, though their words held no trace of annoyance or anger. 

" _Mettaton_ ," You groaned out, and the viewer whispered your name. "Shut it off, please?" 

The camera stayed trained on you for a moment before the screen faded into darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO HYPED FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER?  
> EEH


	54. Then

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mettaton POV   
> ****Three years and two months after the breakup****

Mettaton waited in the empty house, waiting eagerly for your arrival. He knew you would come in, sweaty and your skin laden with gravel and grime, but he didn't mind. He couldn't wait to see you race inside, your face full of happiness after what would likely be another successful competition against Undyne. You never won, but you did come closer and closer with each Saturday that passed. Seeing your progress had filled the robot with more delight than he had thought possible, and the sheer happiness that always radiated off of you would always make his heart quake with pleasant emotions of his own. 

He loved you so much. He loved seeing you happy. 

Mettaton had entertained the thought of going out to watch you complete the competition but had decided against it. You didn't know that he was home early and he didn't want to ruin the surprise. His busy schedule had permeated into his time with you like a nuisance that couldn't be simply tossed out, and so schedules had to be made and maintained so that he could see you at some point during the day. It was usually nothing more than a few minutes during the day and maybe an hour at night, but it was worth it to see your smile. He wished almost desperately that the time could be extended, but he was a busy monster. 

Reaching his hands out, Mettaton began to fiddle with the camera he almost always had with him in his home. It was as much of a constant as you were, always by his side and no more than a short walk away. He used it to capture your smiles so that the images would be the catalyst for his own whenever he would review the video clips, something he did quite often. He pressed various buttons and ran his fingers over several scrapes that the camera had begun to gather. He would turn the camera on when he heard the front door open, he was prone to forgetting to charge it and had no clue how much battery life was left after last night. 

The thought spurred a vibrant smile to lift onto his lips. He had spent most of the night reviewing tapes and staring at pictures of you. He didn't need to sleep, another night of staying up was nothing to him. He actively encouraged it, though you did not. You'd been with Undyne the previous night, the two of you having wanted to watch cartoons together. Mettaton hadn't objected, he would catch up with you today. 

The front door could be heard as it was shoved open. Grasping the camera in hand, Mettaton left the comfort he had come to have in the living room in favor of joining you in the foyer. He could already hear you dashing up a flight of stairs, likely wanting to take a shower before he was schedules to drop by. 

A sad smile took over the vibrant one. He called out to you, wanting to catch your attention before he was forced to join you in the bathroom. He didn't mind the extra contact but the steam did terrible things for his complexion. "*****?" 

As he came around the bend, Mettaton saw you freeze. You whipped your head everywhere but in his direction, causing him to laugh heartily. You were so cute. Your head moved so that your eyes could stare upon his form, and without a moment of hesitation you bounded down the stairs to greet him. Not wanting you to be discouraged by your dirty clothing or smelly body, he swept you up into his arms, pressing you to his chest. 

"How did you do, darling?" You smiled and nuzzled your cheek against the expanse of his metal chest plate. 

"I won!" 

Mettaton wished that he had turned the camera on earlier, your smile was too precious as it glowed from your features. If he were to turn off the light right now, he was sure that your mood would lighten the room enough to make it appear as if a miniature sun had taken up residence in the room. "You did?" You laughed and threw your arms around him, holding him close. You were very obviously happy to see him. "That's wonderful news, handsome!" 

Your laughter chimed in the air like the most elegant of bells and Mettaton felt as though he was becoming intoxicated because of the sound. "I totally killed it, babe! Undyne didn't stand a chance today!" He hugged you tighter and you returned the favor. 

"I am so proud of you, my star," He pressed a firm kiss on your head but stiffened when he felt you freeze up. You went to laugh it off, trying to appear as eager as you had been before, but Mettaton was no fool when it came to you. Maybe that wasn't completely true, but he could tell when you were upset. Running a hand up and down your back and hoping to sooth your mood with his gentle ministrations, Mettaton asked, "What's wrong?" 

"Nothing!" You chirped, your voice so thick with faux happiness that you would have gotten booed off stage if you had presented that in front of an audience. Mettaton told you that he didn't believe you. Finally, you slumped in his hold, though you didn't speak about it. 

Your posture and, when he pulled away to see it, face told him all that he needed to know. You held the same expression you had worn several years prior, when you had faced a rejection so great that it had just crushed your insides. "This is about Sans, isn't it?" Mettaton was glad that no physical camera was trained upon your person. The invisible ones were always present, but at least no one would have to see your depression heavy features. It was positively earth shattering, and not in the good way. 

You nodded, your head bobbing only lightly. "I.." You trailed off, burying your face back into his body. Your actions muffled your words, and the fact that that had been your goal brought great displeasure to the robot. 

"Darling, it's okay." He wanted to tell you that Sans was gone and wasn't coming back, but you had gone on several outings with your friends where that simply wasn't the case. "It's okay." He wanted to do more to reassure you than just hug you close. He wanted you to feel the love he held for you, he wanted you to know that he was here and that he would do everything in his power to ensure that everything was alright. 

Your shoulders stopped quaking in his grip. You moved so that your cheek was pressed against his chest. Your words still came out garbled and odd, but he could understand you better. "I saw him today." Mettaton nodded. That wasn't an unusual occurrence, he had figured that the skeleton would appear during one of your competitions eventually, especially now that Papyrus had become involved. "And," You paused, "We talked." 

It was Mettaton's turn to become paralyzed. He wanted the flood gates to open, he wanted you to cry, pound your fists into his chest if need be, he wanted you to curse Sans' name and resort to all the emotional release techniques you had avoided for all these years. He wanted you to kick and scream and let frustration pour from your voice in heated words and imaginary threats. 

Most of all, however, he wanted you to not have that hopeful tone that carried in your voice after you informed him that you and Sans had spoken. 

His grip on you tightened and he knelt down so that he could crash his lips into yours. "It's okay," He whispered, more an assurance to himself than you now. "It's okay." The camera thudded to the floor, forgotten by all. 

Your eyes weren't wet with tears like he had hoped. Instead, they held that determined hue that only you could pull off without looking mad. Perhaps that was his bias coloring the situation, "We didn't have a very long talk, but it's enough to.." You stopped and wormed your hand through the tight embrace he had started after kissing you. Your heart pressed against your chest and you looked to the floor, the sight giving him tremors that rocked his body. Finally, you looked back up at him. 

"Do you think we could become friends again?" 

Your words pierced through him like rusty knives, each second that passed filling him with more and more dread. You looked so hopeful, he couldn't steal that away from you. "I don't know," He answered truthfully, he didn't know. He hoped not. "What did the two of you talk about?" 

That would-be eternal flame extinguished in your gaze, sadness creeping up where the hope had died. "Just about Papyrus and the competition. I don't think we can be friends again." Your sigh had his soul squeezing and he wanted to see your smile. He knew that it was nearing time for him to leave, his internal clock giving him that foresight, but he ignored it. Your words filled him with more glee than they should have. 

"Oh, darling, why not?" 

You shrugged, the last of your hope dying out. "He never wanted to be before. Why would he change his mind now?" 

"Give him a chance, my star," You flinched at that, and Mettaton wondered why, "I'm sure he'll come around." Sans better not. 

You kicked a foot out absently, the motion swooshing passed his own leg before you brought it back. You leaned over to one side, glaring at the camera as though you thought it was trained on you now. Its lights were not flaring and it was turned on its side as though it was glaring at the door in hopes of catching a treacherous action in the making. After another minute you pulled away with a gasp, "Oh, ew! Babe, I totally pressed my sweaty body against you! Why didn't you stop me?" 

Before you could create too much distance, Mettaton grabbed your shoulders and drew you in close again. "Because I want to hug you." His words hung with a finality that threatened you to question it, but you were a daring man. 

"I'm gross." 

"You're stunning." 

"I'm sweaty." 

"You're amazing." 

You deadpanned. "I'm dirty." 

Mettaton smirked down at you, noticing, with no small amount of pleasure, goosebumps rise on your skin as you took in his greedy stare. "So am I." 

You furrowed your brows, but before you could protest any further, Mettaton embraced you as wholeheartedly as he could. His emotions electrified the blatant display of affection, though it was disguised as something out of love. He wanted to feel you close to him. He had no doubts that that skeleton was up to something. Had Sans finally caught on? Did that skeleton know something now that would have helped him three years ago? 

He needed to have you against him. He needed to know that you weren't interested in that lanky bag of bones who would never deserve you. Sans couldn't worship you like Mettaton could. Sans couldn't appreciate you like Mettaton did, a fact made evident by Sans' lack of analysis several years prior. That dumb monster had thrown away the greatest gift to have ever been given to this universe and didn't even bat an eye socket while doing it. 

No, you would stay his. You belonged to Mettaton in a similar way that he belonged to you. Still, he found himself reaching for his phone with the intentions of extending this meeting by a full day instead of the meager few minutes he was usually allowed. "I'll stay with you tonight, handsome. Go take a shower, I'll still be here when you return." You positively lit up at that, your hands roaming his chest for a moment before your fingers dug into whatever purchase you could find on his shoulders. You pulled him down and pressed a terrifyingly perfect kiss onto his lips, hopping up the stairs before he could retaliate. 

"I'm calling off today." Mettaton spoke into the phone once one of his producers picked up. Not waiting for a response, the robotic diva hung up and made his way back to the living room where he had previously been situated. 

Mettaton reassured himself, or rather, tried to, that you would stay. He would assert his dominance over Sans whenever he next saw the skeleton, and he would shower you in kisses and tender affection until the skeleton knew his place. And his place was far, far away from you. 

You hadn't seemed very interested in Sans when you were speaking of him. Your eyes had lost that wistful look that they had held a month or two after the breakup. You sounded more enthralled with the idea of becoming friends with the skeleton than you did with seeking anything else. You didn't sound as though you wanted to seek anything else. 

You were content here. You were happy here. It would take more than a past lover to shake what you had with him. 

Mettaton kept the camera where it was, not moving to pick it up from its resting position on the foyer floor once he had seated himself down on one of the couches. It would remain his watchdog, and while it would never alert him if someone intruded, more specifically a skeletal intruder who had already begun his invasion, it still calmed Mettaton's frazzled nerves. 

Digging his chin into the heel of his palm, the action resulting in a harrowing screech as two bolts slid uncomfortably against one another, Mettaton lost himself to thought. He would come to whenever you exited the bathroom, but for right now he allowed himself to think. 

He would accompany you, just as every week, to the movie night that followed every competition with Undyne. He doubted it would happen, as the skeleton had never been so much as two steps into his home, but if Mettaton saw Sans he would showcase his love for you in the most tactful of ways. He would lather you in kisses and nuzzles while that dumb skeleton watched, he would cuddle you close and snuggle you until Sans averted his eyes from you for the final time. 

To be as tactful as possible, the robot would need to leave you alone with the skeleton for a short period of time. No need to come across as clingy or knowledgeable of Sans' presence. He would likely exit under the idea that he would fetch some sort of beverage for you or for the group, giving the skeleton enough time to see just how happy you were with Mettaton. How happy you were without Sans. 

Mettaton picked up the sound of the shower turning off and took it as his cue to rise from his seat. Dusting off his legs, of which had accumulated no dirt while he had been planning out the night, the robot began to make his way over to the doorway. 

If he didn't see the skeleton tonight, or ever again, it would be too soon. 

Mettaton exited the room with a dramatic whoosh of his hips, flicking a glare over to those invisible cameras and hoping that they picked up his intentions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have thought about this chapter since chapter two was released. 
> 
> There has been an outline of this in my head forever, of which was not followed in the least, but it was still there. This chapter makes me so hyped. Throwback to chapter two .3. 
> 
> <3 <3 <3!!!


	55. *then

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day of the breakup

You had only just left his arms and disappeared down the street when the knocking started. It was calculated and fast, almost erratic in nature but Sans could hear the beat that the knocks had adopted.

He had just flopped on the couch, ready to lounge about for a few hours before having to head off for work, and wasn't feeling ready to get up. No one was home, Papyrus having darted off to Asgore's, so Sans couldn't just be content with lazing about. He knew that you would scold him if he allowed someone to go unanswered.

His arms were still warm from when you had been in them just a few minutes prior. Taking this as a good sign, Sans begrudgingly gathered himself to his feet and began to shuffle slowly towards the door. The beat was weird, not something he associated with any of his friends or neighbors. Ten knocks, a two second pause in between each one and a five second pause in between the sets.

It seemed dramatic. That in mind, Sans fought back a hearty scowl and languidly lifted a hand do the door handle. He pulled towards him, swinging it with enough momentum to jolt him when he stopped it from hitting the wall. Just as he had suspected, Mettaton stood with his hand poised to knock at where the door would have been had Sans not opened it.

Sans studied Mettaton with careful resolve not to slam the door in his face as the robot straightened himself out. Gone was the typical flare, though there was still a bit of flourish in his pose. Bags had formed beneath the robotic ocular specs, and his smile looked more forced than usual. He looked tired.

Sans was immediately suspicious. "Can I come in?" Sans stepped to the side, shutting the door behind Mettaton once the door was shut. He really wanted to just deny the request, he wasn't fond of the robot in the least, and by staying silent he was able to stop the barrage of insults that wanted to take to the air and make themselves known. Honestly, the robot wasn't that bad. An egotistical jerk who felt as though he was entitled to the very stars, but not as bad as some people. 

Jerry was pretty gross. 

Sans leaned against the door and crossed his legs. His hands tucked beneath his armpits as he crossed them, too. He felt oddly exposed, having given you his jacket for the day; you looked so cute when you wore it. He waited for Mettaton to say something, but the robot was silent, an oddity on its own when disregarding the dull behavior the robot was expressing. There was no bounce to his step, instead he seemed to be dragging his feet. When Mettaton turned to stare at Sans, he almost seemed reluctant. 

Sans was convinced that there was something genuinely wrong with Mettaton. Pushing his earlier bias aside, Sans bumped himself off of the front door and shuffled passed the robot. "*wanna sit down or something?" He didn't offer tea or coffee, the robot would have just sloshed it around in his mug. Mettaton nodded and soon the two were seated across from one another at the kitchen table. 

His arms were cold, your presence almost thoroughly ebbed from his person. Phantom kisses still lingered on his cheekbones where you had pressed your lips earlier. 

The robot seemed to be wrestling some inner conflict. Finally, he spoke again, "Sans, I.." He trailed off. "I found some," Again, another pause. " _Concerning_ things regarding *****." Sans straightened in his chair, fully expecting Mettaton to pull out some pictures of a wardrobe malfunction. You weren't a fashionista, but you were pretty stylish most of the time. 

When Mettaton reached into his chest compartment and dug around, Sans wasn't prepared for the documents he pulled out. Four manila folders were placed out like large poker cards, spread out with enough space in between them to make Sans need to pay attention to only one at a time. They weren't labeled, but Mettaton seemed to know which folder held what. Dragging the folder to Sans' far right across the table and towards him, Mettaton opened it. The folder creaked open ominously and Sans was left with a feeling of regret for opening the door. 

"Sans, do you know what ***** does for a living?" Sans nodded, his eyes not leaving the pictures that had been placed in front of him. They were placed in front of the folders carefully, no doubt providing previews for whatever was in each folder. Pulling the one on his far right over to him, Sans studied the picture intensely. 

"*he's a.." Sans trailed off. You were a what? In the picture in his hands, he was staring at what was very obviously you, clothed in elegant fabrics and with a devious glint in your eyes. To his knowledge, you were a trainer at a local Planet Fitness and you taught classes about anything and everything depending on what your boss needed you to do. Whether it be swimming or yoga, you were prepared because you were great at anything athletic. 

Or so he thought. "Ou-your. Your dear ***** was spotted by a few of my coworkers. He has a history of acting, something that's obvious by your expression, and he's well known among most producers as being a cheat. What he does is he performs at small places, just little things that won't get him noticed all too much, and then he scams the living hell out of whomever he performs for. He's left a couple people bankrupt because of it." Sans looked up from the picture, the image of your grin burning into his mind, and he studied Mettaton. The robot was shooting him an almost sympathetic look. "I know, Sans. I was confused, too." 

He wanted to croak out that Mettaton didn't even know you, but he stayed silent. In exchange for the picture he held, Mettaton handed Sans the folder that contained various documents. The folder was surprisingly heavy, the weight of your sins adding pounds to every paper he scanned through. Everything was there. Reports files against you, reports about you, emails and messages sent to various groups of people warning them about you. "I did a little bit more digging, I couldn't believe that the person they were talking about could be your *****, but the more I tried to clear his name, the more I found." 

With an exhausted sigh, Mettaton rubbed the heel of his palm against his metallic cheek. "It gets worse, though, Sans." How could it get worse? You were leading this double life, you had ruined lives just by existing. Closing the folder, Sans handed it back to Mettaton and waited almost impatiently for the robot to continue. "***** isn't.." 

He was getting tired of Mettaton just trailing off like that. 

"He's a fraud, Sans. He scams people and lures them into a sense of security before stealing away their funds and fortunes." Mettaton's voice held a tone of seriousness that shocked the skeleton greatly, as well as alarmed him. Sans ignored the photo in front of him completely and held out his hand for the folder in Mettaton's hands. The robot handed it over, and had Sans been focused on him, he would have noticed that Mettaton was almost giddy. 

Sans perused through the files with a lack of ease. This was fine, though. He would talk to you about this, this wouldn't mean the end of you two. He had known you for years, he had been with you for years. Secrets weren't something the two of you had, or he didn't think that the two of you had secrets in between you two, but he would work through it with you. For all he knew, Mettaton was lying and this evidence was false. 

Stars, he hoped it was false.

Mettaton waited patiently until Sans was finished with the second folder before pushing the next one towards him. Again the picture went ignored. "As you know, our currency is very valuable to the humans. Just a few gold coins could allow a monster to live out the rest of his days with ease." Sans looked up to find a pointed stare raised in his direction. "And you had more than a few." 

The evidence in this folder wasn't much, but it was pretty incriminating. Screenshots of texts sent in between you and a few of your other friends, all detailing your next biggest scam. You were going to worm Sans out of his money and steal away into the night once you had had enough. From the way the texts seemed to be going, you were planning to leave him soon. You mentioned how long you had been planning this, a little longer than the two of you had been together, and how excited you were to be away from him when it was over. 

Sans tossed the folder on the table as though it burned him. Burying his face in his hands, he could barely contain his rage when Mettaton murmured softly, "And you're not the first one." 

"*how many others?" 

Mettaton ignored him. "I don't know if I should let you see this next one." Sans lifted his face from his hands in time to see Mettaton clutch at the last folder, hugging it to his chest tightly. He looked almost scared. 

Sans didn't want to see what was in that folder. He didn't chance a glance down at the only picture left on the table. You had wanted to hurt Papyrus. Without the large fortune Sans had been able to hoard away with the use of his coins, collected from various jobs in the Underground, Papyrus would be left a pauper. You knew that that would happen if you stole Sans' money, and you were still planning on doing it. 

"*let me see it." Without waiting for Mettaton to comply, Sans used his magic to snatch the folder away from the robot. He regretted it within seconds. 

You weren't judge pledged to a large and well known anti-monster group, you were the founder of it. Several pictures fell out, but Sans only spared them the briefest of glances. In the one on the top of the small pile, you had placed your hand on a book and had a look of pure determination. 

Sans set his eyes to the documents. There were dozens of them and he wasted a lot of time studying them for any sign of discrepancy. There was nothing. You were an advocate for the anti-monster movement. You wanted to purge the world of monsters entirely, not send them back to the Underground. You wanted them gone. 

There were outlines of your speeches. Speeches you had publicly given, likely given when you said you were at work. You always mentioned the sheer joy it would bring you to pound every last monster into dust. You would enjoy nothing more than to tear into Asgore and strangle Frisk for bringing monster kind to the surface. You wanted to uproot every echoflower, you wanted to stomp every monster advocate, and you wanted to kill every monster. 

You were the real monster. 

Sans threw the document down. It had almost physically burned him and he refrained from lighting the paper aflame. His anger was boiling now, he was more angry than he had ever been. In many of your speeches, you had mentioned getting with him to get close to Asgore and Toriel, hoping that killing those two would eliminate all determination in monsters. You had told everyone to keep your double life out of the media, not wanting any monster to catch on. 

"I'm sorry." 

Sans was hissing his response, something so unintelligible that even Sans knew he wasn't using real words. He shoved himself away from the table and stood, glaring at the last piece of paper as it disappeared into Mettaton's chest. 

He was glad that he had allowed Mettaton to talk to him today. He wondered how long it would take you until you decided to strike. From the latest speech, you had wanted to do it soon. You were preparing to smash Papyrus into bits. 

The thought spurred a new wave of anger as wounds tore into his soul. This friendship had been a lie. This relationship had been a lie. While most humans had been accepting of the monster's presence, you were among the few who weren't. And you weren't averse to scamming and scheming to ensure your goal was reached. 

Sans set a new resolve just then. He was going to pack your stuff and kick you the hell out. He would go to your place of work, assuming you were there, and he was going to take back his fucking jacket. He didn't fucking care, he hoped you froze on your way home. 

He wasn't going to tell anyone, though. No, he was going to wait for you. And when you made your first move? 

He was going to dunk you so hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't really like how this turned out, but I've been putting off this chapter for too long. At first it was because I wanted to add suspense by putting off the most anticipated chapter since Payback began, but then it was because I didn't know how to write it. 
> 
> Sorry for the poor quality! I hope you enjoy the next few chapters! <3!


	56. Now

Sans held you throughout the entire night, though not because you necessarily needed comfort. The very moment he released you, you planned on launching yourself out the nearest exit, be it window, door, vent, or otherwise, just so you could throttle the robotic menace. It was a good thing that Sans kept you close to him. 

You didn't question why he hadn't asked you about it. Whatever documents Mettaton had showed him, they were obviously convincing. You doubted you would have reacted differently if you had been in his shoes. That didn't make it any less hard when you remembered the rift that had parted the two of you. 

It was a good thing that Sans didn't let you go. 

Your love for the robot was forgotten for the entire night, thrown to the wind in heated cries and unsuppressed anger. You pounded at the floors and dug your knuckles into your palms over and over again when Sans had finished his story. For a few hours, he had helped you through a workout binge, doing anything if it meant keeping you there with him. He even ran with you when you asked him to go outside, though you suspected it was more to keep you from returning to Mettaton's than to try and comfort you. 

You didn't care. You were livid. You were ready to smash that robotic shit into tiny bits and pieces. Your fists ached with need to dig into him, to smash his metallic frame just like he had indirectly smashed his heart. "We are so Metta _done_." You growled from in Sans' grip. His rib cage was hard against your bag and you pressed even more into it. 

"*i thought you guys already were?" 

"I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt," You snapped, fists clenching and unclenching in an attempt to calm your nerves. You gnashed your teeth almost painfully, the gritting sound grating against your mind terribly. "I thought I loved the bastard." 

"*you still do." 

You turned in his hold and threw your arms around him. He moaned in discomfort at having to move because you had, but he quickly adjusted. He buried his face in the crown of your skull, and when you told him that you didn't love that bucket of bolts anymore, he whispered that you did. You knew that he was speaking from experience, but that didn't make it any easier to hear. "What if I said that I loved you instead?" 

"*you did. you did love me." His voice held an unspoken question, to which you replied in the affirmative by nodding. "*but not any more. that was then. this is now." He cuddled you hard against him and you fought back tears. 

"He ruined our relationship," You squeaked. His grip on you tightened. "He ruined our friendship." 

Sans nodded, his bones rubbing against your scalp. "*he took away three years from us, but in the end-!" 

You had a feeling he was going to say something that would make you temporarily forgive the robot, but you weren't having it. "He's a bastard!" You squealed, burying your face in Sans' jacket. 

Sans patted your back before pulling away. He parted long enough to unzip his jacket, having to push you back the entire time. Without warning, he straddled you and scooped you into the warm confines of the fluffy clothing. You snuggled against him again, hearing the slow rip of his jacket as he zipped it over you. You didn't figure that the jacket was large enough to house the both of you, but apparently it was. 

"*i know it sucks, okay? i'm pretty mad, too." His hand found its way to your scalp, dipping beneath the neck opening to brush along the top of your head gently. It did nothing to soothe you but you leaned into his touch regardless. "*but don't let your anger get in the way of things, okay?" 

"Don't lie, you want to dunk him." 

"*so hard." Sans nodded as though he had imparted a great wisdom onto you. "*but i'm not going to do that because i'm the better monster in this situation." 

You thought about that. "I can still be the better person even if I smash him. I'm the only person in this situation." 

Sans thought about that. "*true." 

You snuggled into his rib cage, ignoring the sound of footsteps as they creaked closer. "I didn't know your jacket could stretch out this far." He informed you that it couldn't. "Magic?" He told you that it was magic. You held onto him a bit tighter. "I'm going to smash him if I see him anytime soon." 

"We'll just have to make sure you see Mettaton soon, then, punk!" You didn't jump when Undyne's voice startle you. Instead, you pressed harder against your ex-boyfriend, relishing in the comfort he practically radiated. You were sweaty and no doubt gross, but he didn't seem to mind so you didn't press the issue. You took in a large inhale, his fragrance, tomato musk and dusty books, permeated your sense of smell. 

It was nice. "*no. we're going to make sure that ***** does not see Mettaton anytime soon." 

"What?" Undyne squawked. "Uh, no!" 

"*yes." 

"No! I'm going to call him up tomorrow morning and invite him over!" 

"*no you are not." His tone held a finality but you could feel his delighted grin as he pressed a kiss to the crown of your skull. You listened to their playful banter for a little bit more before succumbing to sleep, glad that Sans hadn't allowed you to fall asleep while you were angry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't really post updates on my Tumblr, mostly just fanart and Undertale stuff, but if you guys want a link I can shoot it to you guys. There's a lot of stuff about Undertale AUs, though.


	57. *then

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ****Two years and ten months before the breakup****

When you first stepped out of the bathroom, your left hand tightly clinging to your right arm and your head down, Sans felt as though his nonexistent heart might stop. He watched as you traversed the short distance from your bathroom to your living room, you didn't look up until you were two steps into the room. You caught his eye hesitantly, a shy smile pressing onto your lips. 

He was speechless, you were so beautiful. So handsome. So incredibly amazing that someone like you shouldn't have been allowed to exist. You reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, stopping only when you felt your finger come in contact with skin. For a moment, you looked puzzled, shocked, but you quickly recovered. "How do I look?" You asked, a gentle smile forming over the hesitant one. 

You were so cute. 

Still as speechless as he was when you walked into the room, Sans could do nothing but gawk at you. He was sure his pupils had dilated into small hearts by now, but he didn't care. You looked so fantastically happy and that was so, so important to him. You had wanted to be the one to shave your head, choosing to do it without him while he waited on your couch. He knew you would look great, he was positive of it, but nothing could have prepared him for the sight that was you. 

Not wanting to discourage you, Sans squawked out the only thing he could. "*what'd the doomsday prepper say when he got to the letter 'M' in the alphabet?" 

All wariness dribbled from your features, a newfound confident shaking the spots that your insecurity had left. You beamed at him, hand still rubbing at the delicate skin beneath your ear, and you chirruped happily, "The ' _N_ ' is near?" 

Sans was on his feet in a heartbeat, taking long strides until he was close enough to draw you into a caring embrace. "*stop stealing my lines, kiddo," This sentence was punctuated with a distinctly loving kiss placed to the ground of your now almost hairless scalp. You leaned into his touch, arms wrapping around his body and hugging him close. "*i love you," He reassured you, not that he feared you might still be unsure about what you had done. 

"I love you, too," Those four words sent pleasant shivers dancing down his vertebrae and he could not resist the urge to place another chaste kiss on your head. And another. And another. 

A light laughter poured from your mouth, which had twisted happily. When he pulled away from you and set his focus onto your face, laden with more joy than he had seen on you since he first cut your hair two months ago, he had to bite back the urge to place a kiss on those smiling lips. 

He didn't stop himself from leaning over and nuzzling his teeth against your cheek, though. You giggled against him, your laughter bubbly and delighted and only served to lift his mood even further. "You really like it?" 

"*love it. love you." He turned his attention to the other cheek, which was a noticeably darker shade than it had been when you stepped out of the bathroom. Entwining his fingers in yours, Sans spread your arms far out to your side before wrapping them around himself. When he let go, you eagerly continued the hug, burying your face into his jacket. 

Placing his arms around your shoulders, Sans did not fight back the elation as it rose within him. Even when he couldn't see you, your face firmly pressed into his jacket, he could tell that you were happy. You were overjoyed at taking another step towards being the same person on the outside as you were on the inside, and he couldn't have been more proud of you. "Thank you so much," Your gratification babbled from your lips as you snuggled harder into his rib cage. "Thank you so much." 

"*i didn't do anything, babe, it was all you. i'm so proud of you." Sans curled his phalanges into the soft material of your shirt, which still had a few dozen stray hairs sticking to the back and on the shoulders. Before you could protest or try to change his mind, Sans knelt down and pressed another kiss to your cheek. "*you're so amazing and you're so perfect. thank you for letting me be here for you." You threw your arms around his shoulders and nestled your face against his neck. "*you're so handsome. i swear, you're already a heart breaker." You whispered that you loved him, your hushed breath cascading against his bones sensually. "*i don't think there's a more perfect person on this Earth. you're so amazing, did i already say that?" You nodded, "*well, you are. you're more than amazing. you're spectacular. you're life changing. you're Earth shattering." 

You tried to compliment him, but Sans ignored it. This was about you right now. 

His legs were starting to ache slightly from his position, and Sans didn't want to straighten himself out and move you. Wrapping his arms tight against your waist, Sans lifted you up and plopped down onto the couch where he had been just minutes prior. Not taking a moment to appreciate how you were suddenly straddling him, he thunked down so that his shoulder rested against the couch cushions, drawing you in close and not removing his arms from around you. He could tell that you were hanging off the edge, but even if you weren't, he would be reluctant to loosen his hold on you. "*so perfect," He murmured into the small bristles of hair poking up from your scalp. There wasn't enough to even be a centimeter in length. "*i'm so in awe right now i can't even come up with proper words to describe how utterly ethereal you are." 

You draped a leg over his waist to pull yourself even closer to him. Your arms were tucked so firmly around him that Sans felt that you were preparing to melt into him. "*you've got such an amazing personality, you're so handsome, i can't even begin to describe how starstruck you've got me right now." Sans sung your praises with ease, knowing that every single one was one you needed to hear and that every single one was true. He let out a soft groan and tried to cuddle you closer, an action that was almost impossible without crushing you. "*how did i get so lucky, babe? please, please, please tell me. i want to know. i want to know how i got so lucky so that i can share that with everyone else. i want everyone to be able to experience how i feel about you, but not with you." Sans placed another kiss to where he could reach, your face still firm against his neck. In that moment, he didn't care that the two of you weren't together and that he might have been overstepping boundaries. He wanted you to know. "*you're mine." 

You let out a squeal of delight, gasping out his name and crying out, "I love you!" 

You sounded as though you might have been crying, but you didn't sound at all upset. "*i love you, too." You pulled away from him long enough to scoot up, immediately initiating contact again by pressing your forehead to his. Just as he had suspected, your eyes were red and your cheeks were damp. Still, there was a water smile on your lips and an overwhelming joy was sparkling on your facial expression. 

Tightening his grip on you slightly, Sans prepared to begin praising you again but was cut off as you leaned forward. Your forehead parted from his but he didn't have to miss the contact for long, the tender flesh of your lips sliding against his teeth. You didn't look remorseful in the slightest when you pulled away, leaving him dazed and almost without focus. "Thank you," Your body was still pressed firm against his, a fact he was reminded of when you shifted. 

Sans was seeing hearts and stars, the two symbols no doubt taking over the shapes of his pupils, whatever they may have been before you kissed him. You didn't apologize, "Was that too forward?" 

He didn't answer your question, instead instigating another kiss by bringing a hand to the back of your head and pushing you closer to him. Static bounced from the contact as he took in the sheer happiness that came with it. His soul felt as though it was soaring, and he was almost positive that he had ascended into heaven. 

The two of you weren't even together, something he had read about once that was considered taboo in human society, but he didn't care. You were happy, and that was so very important, and he was happy, too. 

When he could will himself to part with you, he murmured gently, "*i love you." 

"I love you, too."


	58. Now

When you woke up, you found yourself draped across Sans' legs, his fingers scraping against your scalp in a way that nearly lulled you back to sleep. You looked up and turned slightly to look at him, he was asleep and looked as though he was having a nice dream. You smiled and began to worm your way away from him. You'd seen enough movies to know that you should probably put something down that was as heavy as you so he wouldn't wake up, but you didn't have time for that. 

You stomped your way, quietly, over to your phone and snatched it up. Glancing back at Sans, you unlocked it and ignored the hundreds of notifications in favor of paying special attention to one. Well, there were close to a hundred notifications from this person alone, but you were still only going to pay attention to him. 

You opened his messages, scowling as a fresh wave of hurt washed over you. Scrolling down to the most recent, you scanned over their content before typing a message of your own. It had been the first time you responded in weeks. 

**-Hey- ___-___-____ 2:13am** You didn't think it was really that early, but after sending a quick glance to the clock at the top of your screen you confirmed that it was. You were just about to shut off your phone, not expecting anyone to be up right now, when your phone lit up with a text. 

**-Hello, darling! How are you?- Babe 2:13am** You resolved to change that contact name once you were finished shooting Mettaton another text. 

**-I'm okay, how are you?- ___-___-____ 2:13am**

**-Positively dreadful, darling. I miss you so much.- ScrapMetal 2:14am** You couldn't think of a pun for his name. 

**-Yeah.- ___-___-____ 2:14am**

**-What are you doing up? Not that I'm not appreciative of you reaching out to me. Do you want to come home, my love? I can be there shortly.- ScrapMetal 2:15am**

**-No, no. I'm fine, thanks. I just woke up.- ___-___-____ 2:15am**

**-Well, the offer still stands. It will always be there for you, just like I will.- ScrapMetal 2:15am**

**-Mettaton, can we talk? In person? Not with the intent of me coming back to your house, I'm fine here, but just to talk.- ___-___-____ 2:17am**

**-Of course, darling! What time suits you best?- ScrapMetal 2:17am**

**-Now? We can meet somewhere.- ___-___-____ 2:18am** You cast a long glance at Sans, who was still peacefully snoring behind you. You knew he wouldn't appreciate you going behind his back to talk with Mettaton, and he certainly wouldn't be okay with you going out to meet the robot, but you wouldn't be alone. 

-Yes, of course! Where do you want to meet? I can have a limousine pick you up in just a few minutes, just let me know where to take you. I'll be in there, so we can talk while heading to whatever destination you set.- ScrapMetal 2:19am 

-That won't be necessary. I'm just going to go take my car. Thanks, though.- ___-___-____ 2:21am 

-Right, Alphy did pick it up for you, didn't she? Well, if you find that it suddenly doesn't work, I am still here, my love. Always.- ScrapMetal 2:21am 

His words made you slightly suspicious, enough to start heading out of the living room and towards the front door. You could hear the soft sound of Papyrus working in the kitchen, he had either gotten much quieter or was really, really tired. You made a detour to the kitchen to tell him where you were going, gaining an obligatory hug from the affectionate monster, and you headed outside. 

It was mid-February and the air was still chilly. You tucked your hands into Sans' pockets, thankful for having woken up with it around you, and walked with a purpose towards your car. You would need to use it more often, anyway. You would need to go job hunting soon. 

Sliding into the front seat after running back inside to grab your keys, you began to plug your keys into the ignition. Your car groaned and popped, not loudly enough to be heard from inside the house thankfully, and it took a minute before it whirred to life. You quickly shut the car off and darted back to the house after locking all of the doors. 

**-It works- ___-___-____ 2:31am**

**-Good to hear, darling!- ScrapMetal 2:31am** His quick texting sent shivers down your spine and a rush of painfully pleasant emotions swirling within you. You smashed them down, though. You were still incredibly angry at the robot who you once called a boyfriend. 

And you were going to let him know. 

Slinking back into the house, you traversed the halls with ease, tip-toeing in the living room before creaking up the stairs quickly. Before you were halfway up the short flight, Undyne had appeared at the top. Her arms were folded over each other and she looked ready to produce a snide comment, but refrained. Her eyes were soft with sleep but held an alertness to them that told you that even though you hadn't told her anything yet, she was on the same page as you. 

Sans had told her and Alphys what had happened, pointedly leaving out a few details. Papyrus had been excluded from the talk, and for good reason. 

The first thing Undyne had wanted to do was smash him into little bits. Alphys had been silent, simply trekking up to her room. 

Undyne would get her chance soon enough. 

Whipping out your phone, you began to text Mettaton again, whispering to Undyne as your fingers banged lightly against the screen. "I'm going to go meet Mettaton somewhere, probably a park or something. I'm going to give him a chance to explain. You coming with?" Your explanation didn't do what you planned to do any justice. Yes, you were going to talk, but you were too angry to just demand an explanation. 

**-Let's meet at the closest park to where Undyne lives.- ___-___-____ 2:35am**

**-Sounds wonderful, darling! I'll be there soon! I love you!- ScrapMetal 2:36am**

You looked up at Undyne and flashed her a smile. The two of you made your way downstairs slowly, careful not to disturb the slumbering skeleton just paces away. 

You were going to dunk on Mettaton so hard.


	59. Now

You turned to head into the kitchen and tell Papyrus where you and Undyne were headed and smacked straight into Sans. His arm wound around your waist and pulled you close to him, his voice husky with sleep as he drawled, "*where're ya goin'?" You felt your cheeks grow hot as you began to pull away from the skeletal monster. He held you tightly, though, clearly not intending on letting you go until you answered his question. You brought your hands up to his stomach and gave a rough shove, though not hard enough to hurt him, and he barely budged in response. 

Snaking his other arm around until he snagged your phone, he lifted the device until it rested in his palm and was within view of his searching eyes. He looked back down at you, asking you what your password was, and you laughed slightly, "Don't worry about it. We're not going anywhere." 

"*who's 'ScrapMetal' and why's he textin' you about a park." The amused look in his eyes told you that he already knew who ScrapMetal was. Sans slid his thumb over your phone and began to type random numbers, no doubt with the intention of locking it. 

"We're just going to go talk to Mettaton!" You reached up for your phone and he pointedly lifted it out of reach. 

You felt Undyne jiggle her hands in your pocket for your keys, telling you that she would get the car started. "*at two thirty in the morning?" You grumbled that it was passed that, jumping up for your phone. His grip on you tightened, pulling you close enough to halt your short hops. "*why?" 

You reached up for your phone as he lowered it, still mashing his thumb against the digital keypad. He maintained eye contact with you, letting you know that he most certainly was trying to lock your phone. You let out a soft squeal of discontent, "I just want to talk to him, that's all." Sans plopped your phone into your left hand and you looked at it to see that it was disabled for a minute. You scowled, but a minute wasn't very long. 

"*can i come?" 

"Probably not," When he asked why, you told him that he wasn't exactly Mettaton's favorite person right now. He retaliated with the fact that Undyne wasn't, either. "Yeah, well," Ugh. "I need someone there, okay? And you were just sleeping, right?" You ducked out of his hold and quickly dashed behind him. Over your shoulder, you suggested, "Why don't you just go back to bed? I won't be gone long. I'll be fine." The relationship you had with Sans felt oddly inappropriate, too domestic. Too close. You resolved to fix that until you knew where you stood with him. 

The both of you had only just exited your relationships. It was too soon to want something more, and you had a feeling that you were pressing onto him in a similar way that you had pushed onto Mettaton after Sans first broke up with you. "*i can be there for you, too. i'm not that tired." 

You poked your head into the kitchen, ignoring Sans for a moment in favor of talking to Papyrus. "VERY WELL, HUMAN! THANK YOU FOR KEEPING ME INFORMED!" Twirling a fork in the pot in front of him, Papyrus lifted a hefty amount of Spaghetti into the air. It landed on the wall next to him with a sickening splat. The noodles slid down the wall. "BREAKFAST SPAGHETTI IS NEARLY READY, MY FRIEND! WHEN YOU RETURN, WE SHALL INDULGE IN THE MOST VALUABLE OF CUISINES!" You snickered and opened your arms. The boisterous skeleton jumped into your embrace with ease, lifting you up and spinning you in a circle twice. 

You loved your friends. "Thanks, Pap!" You gave him one last squeeze before heading out of the kitchen. You found Sans already shrugging on a coat, his usual jacket still slung comfortably around your shoulders. You raised an eyebrow at the skeleton and he shrugged. "Go to bed, Sans." 

"SANS IS UP EARLY FOR ONCE? IT IS A CHRISTMAS MIRACLE, AND IT'S NOT EVEN CHRISTMAS!"

Sans shot you a smug look, "*yeah, bro, i'm up." You stalked passed him and out the front door, making a point to close it tightly behind you. He was already in the car when you slid into the driver's seat, though. 

You rolled your eyes but stayed silent as you backed out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should  
> A)Do my homework  
> B)Study  
> C)Get ready for school
> 
> I am doing   
> D)None of the above
> 
> Whoops


	60. Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while! ;l

You pulled into the park with little hesitation, the only thing betraying your unsteady heart being your grip on the steering wheel. You cruised around for a moment before settling on a parking spot closest to the center of the park, making sure that the spot was still shrouded in a healthy amount of shadows. From your position, you could clearly see Mettaton staring at your car and you only hoped that he couldn't see that you were not alone. The moment your car shut off, he began to walk over calmly, quite a different sight compared to yesterday. 

Huh, it really only had been yesterday, hadn't it? Yeah, you and Sans had been doing that stupid phone app competition yesterday. 

You thanked the stars above that Mettaton was on the other side of the park and turned to your friends. You could see Sans in the back seat, his hand already touching the door handle and his body leaning as he prepared to get out of the car. You and Undyne shared a glance before you began speaking for the first time since you all had left her home, "I want you both to stay in here." Neither made a move to protest, Sans even moved away from the car door slightly, "If I need anything, I'll drop a signal." 

"What'll we be looking for, punk?" Undyne crossed her eyes and turned to look at your robotic ex, watching him now that you weren't. You explained to her that if you raised your hand to say farewell to the robot and shook it instead of waving it, then that was their call to come and intercept whatever was going on. Sans nodded and Undyne turned to face you again so that you could repeat the motion for her. 

Mettaton was close, now, and if you wanted to make sure that he didn't see that you weren't alone then you had to move now. Still, just the sight of him was enough to cause your heart to race, you weren't sure if you could handle speaking to him alone. But you had made your mind up before coming out here, before you even texted him, and you were not going to back out now. 

You slid out of the car with ease and slammed it shut. You jammed your car keys into the slot and locked the door before turning to where your ex lover was, meeting his gaze without a smidgen of hesitation. You closed the distance between the two of you, your feet digging into the frozen grass and your toes becoming frigid inside of your sneakers. When you got close enough, you shot him a smile, moving passed him and calling over your shoulder, "Hey, Mettaton." 

Mettaton didn't spare your car a single glance as he spun on his heels and began to walk alongside you. You allowed that small smile to stay on your lips as you continued to pass along this made up path, not even bothering to walk straight but taking care to ensure that your body did not touch his. "I'm so glad you've come to your senses, darling!" Mettaton chirped, his voice filled with as much elation as you wished you had. You raised a brow at him but did not lower the corners of your lips. "I wish we could have talked about what happened at our house before you left, especially before that," He paused, and you weren't sure if it was for dramatic effect or if he actually was flustered, "Skeleton tainted you. If I had gone to sleep, I am sure that I would have been haunted by your destruction of my name!" 

He reached down and grabbed your hand in his, not letting go even as you tried to tug your hand free from his grip. You had planned to apologize for that, to use a sultry voice in hopes of captivating him and diverting attention from your motives, but you couldn't do that, not while he was holding on to you. He stopped you and tugged on your hand until you were forced to face him, and once you did he immediately grabbed your free hand. 

The look in his eyes, smug and triumphant, told you that he wasn't planning on letting go anytime soon. He took his time in leaning down until his lips were by your ear, "No need to say farewell so quickly, darling." When he pulled away, he was wearing a shit-eating grin that let you know that he did in fact know that you were not alone, and, as made clear by his words and actions, he knew your signal as well. 

He didn't have the upper hand, though. You smiled sweetly up at your lover as though you hadn't been preparing on unleashing a pissed off fish woman and punny skeleton on him, leaning forward and tugging on his hands. You waited patiently until he was close enough to kiss, moving your lips beyond his face until they were just by his ears. "So, a monster-hating cult leader, huh?" When you pulled away, you scrunched your nose up and produced a triumphant smile of your own. 

He didn't look scared or even surprised at your words. You wished you possessed the ability to cross your arms and look somewhat intimidating, but he was still holding onto your hands. His lips twitched slightly and the amused gleam in his eyes grew brighter, "Are you ready to come home, love?" 

You lowered your head and closed your eyes, huffing out a short laugh before raising your head to look back up at Mettaton. "You would want to have me, a well known cult leader who is very much against your kind, sleep in your bed with you?" 

Mettaton nodded, "Of course, darling." 

You found yourself overwhelmed with a sudden and powerful anger. The emotion left you visibly shaking as your eyes hardened. With a hard snap of your wrist that hurt you more than it hurt him, you tore your right hand away from his grip and reared it back. Your fingers curled into a fist and you sent your hand spiraling towards Mettaton's face, not caring even as you knew that you would likely bust a few knuckles upon impact. 

This man had stolen away your happiness and had tried to replace it. This man had built love on lies, had hurt you in impossible ways and wasn't ever going to feel the pain that you felt, that you feel. 

You were going to make him feel something, though. 

You sailed your fist towards Mettaton's face, only to have it be intercepted by his hand curling over your wrist. He brought you closer by pulling on your hands, pressing the right one against his cheek and leaning into your touch. Your brows furrowed and you forgot all rationality, "A thief!" You tried to pull your hand away from his cheek so that you could strike him, "A liar!" You struggled against him as he released his grip on your left hand to curl an arm around your waist. "A cheat!" You squirmed against him as he brought you even closer. "That's what I am, right? Scum?" You shouted at him, not caring as you disturbed the peaceful quiet that had settled over the park before your arrival. 

You had wanted to be suave when you brought this up, reveal Mettaton for the sneak he was in a way that would leave him shocked and breathless. You hadn't been prepared for the sudden rush of anger directed at this fiendish hunk of metal, you hadn't been prepared for anything like the absolute hatred coursing through you. It burned and it tore through your veins and snagged your heart, but it wasn't alone. Your heart was beating with enough love for the metallic monster to throw you from consciousness, and the two emotions were waging a large enough war that you were sure it would knock you out in just a few moments. 

You wanted to hate him for what he did, and maybe you did a little bit, but you loved him. You hated what he had done, but you loved him. Perhaps you should have waited longer for this confrontation. 

Your hand fell from Mettaton's face as his other hand moved to worm around you, hugging you close to him. When you realized that both hands were free, you began to pound on his back with one hand and try and shove yourself free with the other. You were breathing heavy, and your nostrils flared unattractively when he rested his chin on your head. "Dearest, do you remember our first Valentine's Day?" You suppressed the memory and continued to try and press away from him. "You were so happy, do you remember that? We went wherever you wanted to go, and I wouldn't take you anywhere I wanted to go when you asked me to. Well, no, I suppose I did. I wanted to go wherever you wanted to be." You swatted at his arms and tried hard to wiggle yourself free, "The aquarium, the planetarium, the quaint little pizza place on the corner of some little town. Do you remember those places? You wanted to show me everything you loved about this world, from the galaxies to the animals to the food. Do you remember how sad you were that the nearest zoo was closed? I had offered to fly us out to the largest and more extravagant one, but you said you wanted me to see the simple things that made like enjoyable." 

His voice had grown soft, nearly drowned out by your fist thunking against his back. "Do you remember that, darling?" You didn't trust yourself to speak and so you didn't. You hoped that he would be quiet, just let you go and let you shout at him, but of course he didn't. "Do you remember that day we spent just laying in bed? When I told you, again, of my first performance on the surface? That was just a few months ago, wasn't it?" You nodded, but did not let up on your attempted assault on him. "That was so lovely, wasn't it, darling?" You didn't answer him this time, not that he waited for an answer. "Or how about that time we spent just looking up at the sky, even though we couldn't see any stars? Do you remember that?" You choked back a sob, your hits growing weaker. 

You hadn't been the most prepared person for an event like this, but it was clear that Mettaton was. He continued with practiced ease, his voice was somber and distant but you were convinced that he had had this moment rehearsed. "Do you remember when we went on our first date? The first real one that wasn't bogged down by cameras and publicity and where we could just be together? I hated that restaurant, do you remember that?" He let out a short chuckle, nuzzling his face against the top of your head. "You were so happy. Do you remember a few months ago, just the night before all of this happened? You were so happy." Your hands dropped to your side and Mettaton tightened his grip on you a little bit more. "You went to bed loving me no more than you love me now." 

He sounded so sure of his statement, but you shook your head. He had insinuated that you were still as in love with him as you were a few months ago, but you weren't. You loved him a lot, but a great deal less than you had. "Do you remember that first month after you asked me to be your boyfriend?" You asked, hating how your voice sounded defeated and sad. "Do you remember how you couldn't look at me unless there were cameras present? How you always rolled your eyes whenever I talked for more than a few seconds? You were such a terrible actor." He bristled at your statement, you could feel him grow rigid against you and you pressed on, "You couldn't even pretend to like me. That's how bad you were. You had given yourself a role and you couldn't even play it that well." 

"Darling," Mettaton started, but you cut him off. 

"Don't interrupt me, Mettaton." You resisted the urge to twist his name into something like 'Mettafraud' or 'Mettaclod', though it would have been fun. "I bet you thought I didn't know, that I didn't see it. That I was too stupid to notice. Do you remember making up an excuse every time I tried to spend time with you? Do you remember going on that talk show with that loser who's name you kept 'forgetting'? Do you remember letting him ridicule me for millions to see, only interjecting when you decided that you were too bored to deal with that man anymore?" 

Mettaton pressed against you now, trying to get a look at your face as his voice rumbled into the air, "I was defending you because that ugly little man misgendered you! I wasn't giving any of his other accusations any mind because they were too petty to even acknowledge!" 

You snarled, "I'm sure!" Your arms wound around him to keep him from seeing your face, though you knew he could feel your tears as they slid from your eyes and dribbled down a path on your cheeks before dripping on to his metallic frame. "Do you remember our first Valentine's Day? The one where I kept trying to take you to a million different places that would keep you interested, but you couldn't even fake any interest? Do you remember me trying to ask you where you wanted to go because you obviously weren't happy anywhere I took you? Because you obviously weren't happy with me?" Mettaton was sputtering now, his fingers curled tight around your shoulders as he tried to pull you away from him. "You didn't know me back then, but I remember my first Valentine's Day with Sans." 

You fought back the childish urge to remind him that Sans was the boyfriend who he had torn you from. 

"I remember waking up to a giant blue teddy bear holding a heart under my arms, a small little card tucked behind that little stuffed heart. I remember that card telling me how much he loved me, and you know what else there was?" 

"What, darling?" 

Your tears ran freely from your cheeks and you allowed Mettaton to push you away. You didn't want to feel him against you anymore, anyway. "A ticket. To the planetarium. A place that Sans wanted to go, but more importantly, a place he wanted to show me. He wanted me to see this little home away from home that he had found, he wanted me to see the stars because he loved them so much but you couldn't see them very well where we were living. I was never very interested in stars because I couldn't see them, but he showed me their beauty. He wanted to show me something he was excited about because he loved me. When he came home from work that night, the first thing he did was kiss me. The second thing he did was kiss me. He kissed me over and over again to let me know that he loved me. The hundredth thing he did, the first ninety-nine being kissing me, was take me to the planetarium." 

Your voice cracked as you cried out, "You didn't give a damn about me our first Valentine's Day. You didn't kiss me, you didn't hug me, I assumed it was just too early to tell one another that we loved each other, not that it stopped me." He was reaching for you again, despite having just pushed you away. You didn't let him touch you, though. 

You brought up a hand to wipe away your tears but instead you brought it down against his chest, staggering him. "Darling!" He brought a hand to his chest as though he was wounded by your touched. You hoped that he was. 

You took a step towards him, relishing in the feeling of the grass crunching below your feet. It grounded you, and while it did nothing to steady your racing heart, it brought you a small bit of comfort. "Do you remember lying to Sans? Telling him I was a thief, a cheat, convincing him I was the worst scum to have ever been scraped off someone's shoes?" Another step forward. "Do you remember telling him that I was the leader of some crazy cult?" Another step. "How about that I'd like to hurt Pap? That I'd thoroughly enjoy it?" With each word, you stepped closer to Mettaton, who in turn took a step away from you. You were quickly regaining control of the situation. "Do you remember wrecking my relationship? Sans does." You stopped when he stopped flinching away from your actions. 

He regarded you with cold and angry eyes, "I don't know what that skeleton told you, but I most certainly did not ruin your relationship with Sans." You raised an eyebrow at him, but did not move as he took a step towards you. You felt as though the two of you were dancing now, an odd little jig that was surrounded by deception and lies and accusations. You rolled your shoulder and clenched your fists, "I didn't do anything wrong, I didn't do anything at all." 

He was close enough to touch now, but you kept your hands by your side. "You ended my relationship with Sans." Before he could stop you, you asked, "Why?" 

You could see the sun drifting over the horizon, lazy pastels painting over the sky where the sun tried to break passed the treeline. The wind was chilly and your fingers felt numb, but you pressed on. 

"Do you remember a few months ago, when you asked me who could ever hate me? I was sitting in the tub, I was so tired. Do you remember asking me that?" Mettaton nodded. "Do you remember how I answered?" 

Again, Mettaton nodded. "You said that you thought Sans might." 

"I'm convinced that it was you who hated me, though." Mettaton looked shocked at your proclamation, and before he could try to interrupt you, you began again, "I mean, you can't do what you did to someone you love. Maybe you didn't love me then, but you knew what you were doing. You knew who you were hurting. And you didn't care." You spared a glance over to your car, suddenly missing being in Sans' arms. "Maybe I won't ever be as close to Sans as I was, maybe I'll never find someone to love me as much as I loved you, and maybe I'll never know why you did it." You turned away from Mettaton and began walking towards your car, all of the anger suddenly draining from you, "And I don't care." 

Your footsteps were full of confidence as you added distance between yourself and Mettaton, distance that he was eager to close as he strode after you, "I never hated you, love!" You smiled as you caught sight of Sans slipping out from inside the car, making long strides over to you. You smiled and waved at him, picking up speed to meet him halfway. "I love you, my darling!" 

You sent a smile over your shoulder, "If you love something, let it go. If it comes back to you, it's yours." Mettaton looked almost hopeful for a moment, "That being said, I'm going back to Sans." You turned back to face Sans and broke into a run to cut through the grass. Even though he couldn't have heard you, Sans looked monumentally happier than he had when he exited your car. 

Opening his arms for you to jump in, which you did, Sans hugged you tight against him. "*how'd it go?" He asked, ignoring the robot that was quickly catching up. 

You buried your face into the soft fur lining his hood, "It went okay." He asked you if you got answers, "Nah, but I got what I needed." 

"*swag." You snorted and Sans moved so that he was facing the car again. He began to take sure steps towards the vehicle. You wrapped your arms around his neck and hugged him. Looking over his shoulder, you spotted a very defeated looking Mettaton, and you felt bad for him, while you doubted you and Sans would ever get together again, the two of you still had one another. The two of you still had beautiful memories to look back on, and you both were going to make more with each other. The memories you had with Mettaton were quickly becoming tainted by what he had done, and while a lot of them were nice, your hindsight gave you a new perspective on all of them. 

Sans let you down so that you could unlock the driver's side door and pull yourself into your seat, Sans sliding into the back with ease. You shot a pleased smile over at Undyne, who had fallen asleep in her seat. 

Shoving your key into the ignition, you started the car and didn't give Mettaton so much as a passing glance as you drove out of the park.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like some of this, and then other parts I'm just cringing like what in the heck am I thinking. 
> 
> I'm probably not going to drag this out for much longer. We hit the climax, we got the backstory, I don't want to bore you guys to death by trying to beat a dead horse. 
> 
> I hope you guys like it!
> 
> **Side note, I just reread IWAP and if you came from there, how the heck did you survive that mess. I am ashamed .o.**


	61. Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mettaton POV

Mettaton watched you leave him. He watched you leap into Sans' arms, he watched Sans hold you tight, and he watched you leave. The first time you had left him, it hadn't felt real. It had felt as though you just needed some time to readjust to the information you had found out, and maybe time was all that you really needed when you didn't know everything, but you knew everything. He had thought that this relationship was salvageable, had prepared to convince you to come back with him. He had prepared speeches and had rehearsed what he was going to say to get you to come back to him when you inevitably contacted him again, but he hadn't prepared enough. 

He didn't think that Sans would tell you everything. He hadn't been prepared for you to just casually mention what he had told the skeleton, he just hadn't been prepared. He should have thought about what to do if Sans did tell you everything. He should have planned ahead just in case, but he didn't. And now he was paying for it by watching you leave him. 

Just like you said you wouldn't. 

His chest felt heavy, likely from the camera inside of its compartment. He had planned on sitting you down and running through all of those videos with you, wasting away the morning and relishing in the sunlight as it poured over the both of you. He had planned to invite you back to his home so that the two of you could continue watching, imagining that the glare of the sun against the screen would make it difficult to see the memories as they played out on screen. 

His shoulders slumped as he stared hard at the spot that your car had been. 

The first time that you had left him, it hadn't felt like you were actually leaving. This time, though, it felt real. You were gone, you weren't coming back. He could still try to show you the videos, sending them via text or posting them to forums where they would no doubt get back to you, but it wouldn't change anything. You weren't coming back. You had left him, he had tried so hard to keep you and you had left him. 

He supposed he couldn't blame you, though. His theatrics had always been more than anybody could handle, you had just managed to deal with it longer than most people could. 

Something oily and slick ran down his cheeks and Mettaton slowly lifted a hand to his face, more because it felt impossible to move than for dramatic effect, and his fingers brushed against the liquid. He didn't pull his hand away to see what it was, he knew what it was. Spinning away from the parking spot your car had vacated, Mettaton began to walk towards his car, hand lowering from his cheeks. 

Sans had gotten his revenge, a dish apparently best served with ketchup and bones. 

Mettaton lifted himself into his car and plugged his key into the ignition. He pulled out of the park, casting a longing glance towards the exit you had gone through before heading back to his home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter is short


	62. Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Seven Months Later**

You let out a whooping cheer, your arms draped around Asgore and Undyne's shoulders awkwardly as you angled your head to get a better view of the sight in front of you. Your left leg felt heavy as it hung, suspended in the air just like the right one but with a thick cast over it from mid-thigh to the middle of the arch in your foot. Your right arm, hanging over Undyne, still felt sore from when it had laid upon Papyrus' hard metal-covered shoulders just a half hour prior, but both the pain in your leg and the pain in your arm was quickly forgotten as the aforementioned skeleton sauntered up with ease to the starting line. 

You let out another loud cry for your friend as he waved in your direction. Your cheeks hurt from smiling so much and your muscles burned from the position you had held for over three hours now, only being let back down to the ground once every other hour, and you would be lying if you said your heart didn't sting a little, too. A self-proclaimed 'Mettathon' was taking place currently, though Mettaton was nowhere near the event, and the banners depicting the robot were everywhere. His image was painted on the streets, both original and Ex form, his face was on cups and plates and on decorative pastries, his soul was plastered onto the backs of every runner just below their assigned number, regardless of if he was here physically or not, Mettaton was very much present at your location. 

You screamed yet again as Napstablook floated beside Papyrus, his smile gentle and kind as the ghost faced towards Papyrus, and in turn you and your group of friends. You felt your hold on Undyne slip a little, her sweaty gills and damp skin proving to be terrible for grip, and you adjusted quietly. Your vocal chords felt as though someone had shredded them, you had cheered for every race as your friends, and sometimes strangers, took up their own little challenges and tried to finish running. 

There had been so many runners this year that the directors in charge of the race had to create separate races. You supposed that that was by fault of Mettaton, even if he hadn't so much as acknowledged the event. "How are you doing, *****?" You turned towards the gruff voice, a concerned expression cloaking Asgore's normally calm face. He had attended the event for the sake of Frisk and Toriel, who were both running two races from Papyrus', as well as to support his friends who were also racing. 

You lifted a hand to wave him off, dismaying the former king further as you nearly dropped from your position by letting him go. "I'm fine, don't worry about me. The race is about to start!" Your voice groaned and crackled, proof of your dying vocal chords, and you turned back to face the pavement Papyrus was standing on. The large crowd in front of you had blocked off your view of the first race for a moment before Asgore offered to hoist you up onto his shoulders. He had been careful about your leg then, and was no less careful now, even after Undyne had all but begged to assist her boss in helping you see. Papyrus had done the same earlier, when Undyne was racing, but the king had been far more reluctant to share your weight then. 

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes, glad to be garbed in shorts that dressed a little beyond your knees. The early autumn air was brisk and, while the sun was shining down upon your person and baking the pavement beneath everyone's feet, it was definitely a distinct difference from the past couple of weeks. 

Someone cheered from your far left, and you opened your eyes to see who it was. Turning your head, you spotted Alphys, who was moseying her way over. She shuffled through the crowd with little difficulty, her polite manner of speaking and soft voice caught the attention of a young girl who was making it her job to escort Alphys. The stout dinosaur monster had no qualms about making herself known, though, often tossing out encouraging words to the runners that she could only just see over the heads of those around her. 

You smiled and called out, "Alphys!" Your short outburst, though not unusual, caught the attention of the fish monster below your right arm. She, too, turned her head towards Alphys and you could tell that she had to physically restrain herself and keep herself by your side instead of running off to her lover. You patted Asgore's shoulder until he turned towards you, and he, picking up on what you wanted easily, lowered himself until he was able to tuck his free arm beneath your good leg. It took some maneuvering, but soon you were again seated atop his shoulder and Undyne was running away from you two. 

You let out a sigh of relief, the tension that had built up from holding up your entire weight by your arms now easing from your muscles. They were still sore, but if you were able to stay in this position for a little while, you knew it wouldn't be long before the unpleasant sensation was ebbed away by the slight nip in the air. 

The sound of a loud boom tore your thoughts from your pained arms, and you jumped slightly. The loud clattering of sneakers against asphalt filled the air as the current runners charged off in the direction of their goal, and you let out another loud whoop. Your leg twitched slightly from its outstretched position, the cast making it impossible to bend or move the limb too much, and you fought back the whim to join your friends. 

Your skin felt itchy and gross beneath the cast, and you desperately wished you could tear it away from your leg and run once more, but you were not healed. Not in the least, having only just broken your leg a few days ago. "How're you holding up, bud?" 

You turned towards the sound, it was Undyne speaking to you now, and you lifted your lips in a loose smile. You averted your eyes from your best friend briefly, watching in idle despair as the slowest runner passed over and out of sight to continue on their journey. Something flashy and bright danced along your peripheral vision, and you ignored it, already knowing that it was another Mettaton-themed decoration. You curled your toes, stopping when you felt discomfort in your left foot, and answered, "I'm doing alright." Your gaze flitted back over to Alphys and Undyne, who now stood beside Asgore, hand in hand. "What about you guys?" 

You knew that they were concerned. Even if they didn't know why they were, even if they didn't understand what was going on, you knew that they were concerned. And they had a right to be, over the past few months, despite your overbearing cheering and constant smiles and laughter, your mood had been tapering out until you fell into a confusing type of depression. You weren't sure if you could call it depression, you were just sad some times and numb all other times. You still laughed, you still smiled, obviously, but a deep and possessive sadness always crept around your person and occasionally took over your mood. 

Today was just one of those days. 

The corners of your mouth tipped in a vivacious smile as you winked at the loving couple on your left, your expression no doubt gleaming of undeniable happiness, "Wait, don't answer that. I know exactly how the two of you are." Alphys' face dipped into a flustered blush and Undyne lifted her free hand to rub at the base of her skull. You could see Asgore's worried stare, it was in plain view as your face was towards his, and you knew he wanted to ask. You looked down at him and smiled warmly, your cheeks again stinging, "What about you?" 

Asgore allowed a troubled smile to pass over his lips and his hold on you tightened slightly. His hand was firm against your hip, securing you to his shoulder and ensuring that you would not fall just as a father might do for a child. "I am well, my son." He didn't ask, and you didn't expect him to. The former king was not one for prying. 

"Come on, nerds!" Undyne called out suddenly, grabbing and tugging at Asgore's sleeve. "Let's get closer to the action, I bet Pap is in first!" Alphys let out a gentle squeal as she was hefted into the air by her powerful lover, and you found your lips dragging into a familiar frown. You stretched your lips into something that you hoped resembled a smile, though you knew it looked more like a grimace than anything friendly. 

You weren't going to sour today for your friends. You weren't going to allow a sadness, of which was random and sporadically present as well as without any clear reason for existing, to ruin the mood. Your shoulders hunched in a hearty shrug and you leaned back, bunching your hands into fists and closing your fingers tight around the soft material of Asgore's shirt. "I think I'll just chill in the car for a bit, y'know?" That last addition had become a ready part of your vernacular, much to your disliking. It slipped out with ease every time though, and you would just have to wait until it exhausted itself, "This thing is really bothersome." You lifted your leg and shook it in the air, worrying Asgore further. 

You tried to clamber down from his hold and lower yourself to the ground, but the former king wouldn't allow it. He allowed you enough motion to cause you to plop into his open arms but nothing more, holding you firm against his chest as his deep voice rumbled into the air, "I'll take ***** back." The crowd had begun to disperse, obviously having the same idea that Undyne had though probably a lot less pro-Papyrus, and Undyne was eager to grab one of the best spots.

Despite her want to secure a front row seat to Pap's victory, she checked on you one last time. After making sure that you had your phone and would text her when you were ready to come back out, she raced in the direction of where the race would likely be more lively, Alphys tucked beneath her arm. Undyne had plenty of energy even if she had just recently run a marathon. 

It wasn't long before you were deposited into the front seat of Asgore's car, the former king having the ability to wade through the crowd with ease. You were glad that the goat monster hadn't sparked any conversation about your increasing drop in mood, instead initiating chat about careless and frivolous things. It was nice to not be prodded by one of the royals, Toriel, bless her heart and soul, was too empathetic to allow you any peace when you were alone with her. "Are you sure you will be alright here?" 

You quirked up your lips in that familiar smile, "Yeah, thanks, Asgore." He bowed his head and, upon further insistence on your part, departed from you. When he had padded back into the crowds and out of sight, you allowed yourself to be swallowed again by thoughts that were better left out of your mind. They weren't terrible in nature, just tiring. 

After a while, you noticed that the midday sun had lethargically moved from its position high above your head and, after pulling out your phone, you noted that it was a little passed one in the afternoon. Papyrus was still running, as made evident by the distinct lack of Undyne's bumbling joy in the car, and you wondered if you should head out soon. It wouldn't be a very good idea to do it alone, you had learned that lesson the day after nearly shattering the bone in your leg, but you weren't going to disturb Undyne from whatever she was doing to come and get you. She would be happy to do it, you knew, but you were still reluctant to do it. 

You weighed your options for a moment, reclining into the sun-baked leather that you had neglected to appreciate the entire hour you had sat in Asgore's car, and finally you decided to head out. It would take some time to get over to your friends, Papyrus and Napstablook would likely be finished with their race by the time you hunkering your way over to the finish line, but you were restless just sitting in the car. You reached for the handle and clicked the latch beside it, unlocking your door. 

Shoving it open, you were careful to lock the door again once you stepped out of the car. You quickly grabbed your phone and slid it back into the waistband of your boxers, shucking the door shut once the device was secure against your hip. A deep chill ran along the exposed skin of your arms and right calve, the wind licking unpleasantly at you. You brought a hand up and ruffled your bangs, the gel keeping your mop of hair to the top of your head having dried and now left uncomfortable flakes on your skin. You hated it, but you looked positively handsome with the slight bit of hair, and it was in style currently. 

Not that you weren't damn fine without it. 

You took a step onto the grass in the parking lot, testing. You wobbled over almost immediately, letting out a short growl of displeasure as your nerves sparked with no small amount of pain. Before you could dwell on it for too long though, something hard and heavy draped over your shoulders, warding the chill away from your exposed shoulders, and two strong arms tucked around your waist. You grunted softly as you were pulled from your kneeling position on the grass, looking over your shoulder despite knowing who you would find. 

Just as you had predicted, Undyne was positioned at your back, hoisting you up to your feet before sliding beneath your left arm, taking the weight off of your leg. You felt your shoulders drag unintentionally as you breathed, closing your eyes for a full minute before opening them and shooting a smile up at your best friend. "Thanks," 

She set off for a moment before scooping you up into her arms, mindful of your cast. You let her talk to you about mundane things, as well as chastise you about not texting her when you were ready to head out. You shimmied your shoulders a bit into the leather jacket she had placed over them, your fingers grasping tightly onto the sides as you hugged it snug against your body. She didn't object when you again lost yourself to your thoughts, you could still hear the constant hum of her voice as she filled the silence for you. 

You wished she was Sans. 

It was selfish, this was your best friend and who you were very close to, but you still wished that she was Sans. Your lovable skeletal friend had all but dropped off of the face of the planet a few months back, you had been gifted with a goodbye and nothing more. No explanation, and certainly no word from him since. Papyrus told you that he was doing well, but he seemed to be the only one out of your large group of friends who was hearing anything. You figured that he might have come around to witness Papyrus' first Mettathon, but he wasn't around to see Papyrus start off and you doubted he would be there to see Pap finish. 

You were jolted from your thoughts as Undyne broke out into a run, a flurry of "Shit-Shit-Shit!!"s raining from her lips. You were very glad that you hadn't had the energy to eat today, the rough jostling turning over your stomach and bringing bile to your throat. You were glad that there was nothing that could spill out. 

Your arms wrapped loosely around Undyne's shoulders and you hugged your torso close to your friend's. Your bindings shifted uncomfortably around your chest and you made a quick grab for your phone as you felt it fall from where it had been placed against your skin. 

You didn't bother to check the messages, instead just holding it tightly in your grasp. The two of you arrived at the finish line just in time to see Papyrus before he swept beyond it, Napstablook not far behind. You let out a whooping cheer, putting up the joyous facade as you congratulated your friend on his tremendous accomplishment. 

You wished you were home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sick right now, and due to recent events (My team and I totally wrecked out competition this past Saturday!!!!) I haven't been able to write all too much :( I hope you guys like this! <3 <3 <3!!! It's a different style because I am really really sick and it's hard to do a lot, but I wanted to write something and my style was bound to change eventually <3! ;l


	63. Now

You plopped onto your bed with a large sigh and tossed your crutches to the side. Easing your leg up carefully onto the soft mattress, you sat up and tucked a warm comforter over your legs, laying back down so that you could wrap your torso with that same comforter. The warmth accompanying the cover was almost instant, the heat suppressing shivers that had danced along your skin for far too long. Reaching over your right side to grab at a loose blanket, you brought it over your arms but did not press the blanket beneath your body as you had done with the comforter. You kept it loose, should you need your arms for something else. 

Today had been a busy day. Papyrus, Undyne, Napstablook, Toriel, and Frisk had all run in marathons, callously dubbed as 'Mettathons' regardless of the fact that Mettaton was not present at any of the races, and the former three had come in first, or in Napstablook's case, second. It had been a very exhausting day, and while you had not done much physically, you felt your eyes grow heavy and your body become more and more weary with every second spent laying on your mattress. 

You curled up slightly, shifting the blankets a little bit before stopping. Your right leg was crooked slightly and you squirmed until you could reach down and pat the cast covering your left leg. You ran your fingers over the stiff material absently, thoughts far from your injury. Your phone was buzzing a little ways off from your right ear, having been thrown lightly against the wall when you entered your quaint little bedroom. 

You thought about your home for a moment. Toriel, the wonderfully kind monster who was quickly becoming a maternal figure in your life, had housed you for the first few months after your breakup with Mettaton. Undyne and Alphys would have been happy to keep you for longer than they had, but Mettaton was a constant in Alphys' life that she couldn't just shake because the two of you had negative history. You had understood, you had even offered to go someplace else, but before you had gotten very far, Toriel had scooped you up and placed you in her home without hesitation. The motherly goat monster really was a beautiful person, you knew that she had ended her relationship with Sans for your sake, likely hoping that it would help rekindle something between you and Sans, and had even given you shelter. She was kind, too kind. Eventually you had gotten a job as a swimming instructor and had paid for your own apartment, of which you were currently in. 

You had lived in your new apartment for a good two months, give or take a few days. It was nice to have your own place, it even had a layout that resembled the apartment you had had before you moved in with Sans when the two of you were an item, and that made the apartment feel a little bit more like home. There wasn't an elderly couple that constantly sent baked goods your way, but your neighbors were kind and you could settle with that. 

You closed your eyes and arched your back, arms stretching out from beyond the blanket as you tried to loosen your muscles. Your phone's vibrations were an unsettling constant, made only worse as you fought to keep yourself awake. The night was still young, you having retired early instead of attending the celebratory parties planned by your friends, and your sleep schedule was messed up enough already. You had work in the morning, still serving as an instructor just without getting into the water. 

Your muscles strained as you pushed yourself even further, your right food sliding against the mattress as you lifted your back up even further away from the bed. The bed sheet below you provided little purchase but still gave enough grip that you could push off of it with slight effort. When you finished stretching and you had lowered yourself back onto your mattress, you found yourself growing more and more irate with each little buzz that shook your phone. Snatching up your phone, shocked at the sudden shift of your own mood, you brought the device to your face. 

The date for your would-be anniversary with Mettaton had passed a little bit ago, and there were still thousands of little lovelies who desperately wanted the two of you to come back together. The amount of tweets and messages you received on a daily basis was becoming almost annoying, and you often found yourself weighing the option of just creating new social media accounts. They would find you, though, and you knew they would find you quickly. 

You rolled away from the wall and sat up, sliding your legs out of their comfortably warm fortress and over the edge of your bed. Your left leg stuck out terribly and so you scooted closer to the edge of the bed and rested your bandaged heel on the floor to ease gravity's pull. You slid your fingers into the gross mop of sweaty hair that clung to your forehead, sweeping the strands away from your face. Finally, you brought over the covers so that they again rested on your legs and grabbed at your phone again. 

It would have been easy to just swipe down on your notifications and press that little button to dismiss all of them but one of them stopped you. Your new phone displayed the typical message that appeared when a new text came in, it sat at the very top of your notifications for a brief moment before sliding down as more came in. You chased it down immediately. 

**New Message from Paps:  
FRIEND! THE PARTY IS GOING...9:17pm** You clicked on the message to display the full contents, your fingers already poised to type out a quick response for when you were finished reading.

**Paps:  
FRIEND! THE PARTY IS GOING ON AND GOING ON WELL! 9:17pm**

**___-___-____:  
That's great, Pap! 9:17pm**

You leaned back, a position that strained your back uncomfortably and had you shifting almost immediately. You didn't want to sit back up, though, so after a minute you stopped and settled. You stared up at the ceiling tiles for the longest time, feeling your phone buzz in your hand, before bringing the device back up into view of your face. You were surprised by the amount of messages you had accumulated. 

**New Message from Undyne:  
LOSEER! LOSERRR!! GET OVER...9:20pm**

**New Message from Paps:  
All of us would really like it i...9:22pm**

**New Message from Metaclod:  
I heard the races went well, d...9:25pm **

**New Message from Alphy:  
Hey, Undyne and I were wond...9:25pm **

**New Message from Tori:  
Dearest *****, Frisk and I wis...9:28pm **

**New Message from Kingsley:  
Dear *****, Toriel and I woul...9:33pm **

**New Message from Napstablook:  
Hi 9:34pm **

You resolved to update your phone as soon as possible and get rid of the ellipsis feature, you'd seen enough dots to satisfy all of your dot-filled needs. You decided to check through them one at a time, starting with Undyne and working your way down. 

**Undyne:  
LOSEER! LOSERRR!! GET OVER HER RIGHT NOW! 9:20pm**

**-I'LL KIDNAP YOU 9:22pm**

**\--YOU THINK I'M KIDDING, PUNK? I KNOW WHERE YOU LIVE 9:23pm**

**\---THIS PARTY IS ROCKING, I CAN CARRY YOU IF YOUR LEG IS BOTHERING YOU 9:25pm**

**\---- >:( 9:28pm **

**\-----NERDDDD 9:30pm**

**\------If you're asleep right now, you are such a wimp 9:35pm**

You smiled at the screen, dragging your fingers languidly over the digital keyboard before she could spam you further. 

**___-___-____:  
Hey!! No, I'm not sleeping, but I am tired. Maybe some other time? 9:35pm**

**Undyne:  
I'll kidnap you right here, right now 9:36pm**

You smiled, and decided to move on to the other texts before continuing your conversation with Undyne. 

**Paps:  
All of us would really like it if you came to the party and hung out with us! You would have most definitely won your race if you were able to compete, and so you should not be left out of the festivities! 9:22pm **

**___-___-____:  
Aw, I'm sorry :( I'm really not feeling all too well. Maybe some other time? 9:36pm **

**Metaclod:  
I heard the races went well, did you have fun? I have no doubt that you took first in whichever race you competed in. 9:25pm**

You furrowed your brows for a moment before remembering that you had basically blocked Mettaton out of your life. Of course he didn't know that you had broken your leg, who would tell him? You scrolled passed his message, opting to answer him at a later time, when you were more fit to do so. If that was a few months from now, whatever. 

**Alphy:  
Hey, Undyne and I were wondering if you'd like to be picked up? I mean, to the party. Or everywhere! Whichever. Do you want to? 9:25pm**

**___-___-____:  
No, sorry. I'm not feeling well and I'm pretty tired. Maybe some other time? And don't worry, I know what you meant ;) 9:37pm **

**Alphy:  
Yeah, no proble!! Let us know if you change your mind! 9:37pm **

**-*Probem 9:37pm**

**\--*Problem 9:38pm**

**Tori:  
Dearest *****, Frisk and I wish to extend an invitation to Papyrus' party. We understand that you may have already been invited, but the possibility that you had just forgotten about it was too great for us not to remind you about it. If transportation is an issue, please allow us to assist. 9:28pm **

**___-___-____:  
Hey, Tori! Sorry for the late response. No, I don't think I will be attending Pap's party, I'm really tired right now. Sorry! 9:39pm **

**Kingsley:  
Dear *****, Toriel and I would like to give you proper transportation to the party that we are currently attending. While I am certain I know your address, I would like to have it again just to be sure. 9:33pm **

**___-___-____:  
Not necessary, sorry. I'm not feeling all too well. 9:40pm **

It took you a while, but you were finally left alone. Your thumbs itched and twanged with discomfort from having texted so many people, it was currently half passed eleven and you had only just convinced Undyne that she didn't want to pick you up. 

You were really tired, now, and brought your broken leg up so that it rested on top of the mattress. Your phone buzzed constantly, and you quickly moved to shut it off completely, deciding that tonight you would just set the alarm that rested on the desk by your bedside. You reached over to flip the metallic box on, stopping halfway when you heard the distinct sound of knocking. It was slow and lazy, but the sound was crisp and loud enough that you were almost sure it was coming from outside of your apartment door. 

You furrowed your brows yet again before making a grab for your crutches, flipping the alarm clock on before setting out. You hobbled out of your bedroom slowly and awkwardly, your crutches barely fitting through the narrow doorway. You made your way down the short hallway before slinking into your living room, eyeing the door that sat a little ways off in front of you. You wanted to hear the knocking once more before making your decision on whether or not to get closer to the door. 

There had been times before where you thought that someone was at your door and instead they had been knocking at the homes of one of your neighbors. When the sound did not reappear for a solid few minutes, you stretched the crutches out and lifted yourself closer to the door anyway. If someone was lurking in the hallway, you hadn't heard any doors open, you would want a good description of whomever it was. 

It probably wasn't smart to go out armed with nothing but crutches but you were strong, still kicking ass even without the use of one of your legs, and you doubted they would be able to overpower you, whoever it was. 

You leaned up and peered into the small peephole, not surprised to find no one standing at your door. Still, you persisted, reaching your hand out and unlocking the door. You awkwardly stumbled back far enough so that you could throw the door open without fear of it knocking over one of your crutches, and you opened the door with ease. You moved forward and poked your head out through the doorway, tossing your head from side to side to search for whomever had been knocking recently. 

You didn't need to search for long, a distinctly familiar looking hooded figure leaned against the wall to your left, their arms crossed and their head bowed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm ending it there because I hate it I hate it so much oh my gosh. 
> 
> I am so sorry for this omg


	64. Now

You raised your brow at the figure before clutching the door knob tighter. You resisted the urge to slam the door and rouse the sleeping figure for a heartbeat, and then two, but succumbed to the want by the third heartbeat. You knew it was the third heartbeat because you could feel your heart pound in your chest in time with the throb of your leg. 

It took no effort at all to shut the door, so you expended as much as you possibly could to slam it. You could deal with your neighbors if they complained to you later, you would blame it on a drunken stupor or something equally ridiculous, but believable. 

You had barely taken two steps from the door before a gentle knock sounded from the other side. Apparently you had found success in your endeavor to wake the figure up as rudely as possible, a fact that had a smile crossing your lips. You stopped and lifted a hand to your head, sifting your fingers through the odd mop of hair that sat there. Your hair was slightly greasy from disturbed gel, an odd sensation when coupled with the crunchy aftermath from those same products. 

You knew you were being dramatic, actions of which resulted in a constant and painful throb coming from your left leg. You had leaned on it heavily when throwing the door shut, which probably wasn't the smartest thing to do, but it certainly was exciting. Over dramatic? Yes. Thrilling? Yes. 

You continued your hobbling descent through your apartment, ignoring as a muffled voice drifted through your door, the words failing to reach you. The apartment you called home wasn't the best at keeping out noises but at least you couldn't make out the words trying desperately to filter into your home. You made it a few more steps before the sound of a door unlocking filled your home, an ominous creaking sound following it soon after. 

You didn't have to turn to see that Sans was standing in your doorway, but you did it anyway. You turned halfway, regretting even coming out to check whom had been at your door as your leg was starting to hurt a lot now from all the standing, and stared at him. He looked tired but aside from that, he looked just as he had when you had last seen him. 

The thought filled you with anger, but aside from clenching your fists you did not show it. "It's late," You faked a yawn, "Get out." 

Your voice was filled with as much malice as you felt for the skeleton in front of you, the skeleton who had called himself your best friend before disappearing off the face of the Earth without warning, without a goodbye. The skeleton who hadn't tried to contact you, hadn't tried to contact anyone aside from Papyrus, in seven months. Perhaps that wasn't one hundred percent true, he had said goodbye, but he hadn't said that he was leaving. 

Squaring your shoulders, you glared at Sans, who was staring at you without hesitation. 

And then his gaze dropped to your leg and suddenly he was all full of it. 

He didn't break his gaze from your leg as he asked, "*whoa. what happened?" 

You didn't glance at your leg, you didn't break your stare from him. For a moment you stayed like that, but after it had become a moment too long you turned back around. You lifted the leg as if to show off its capabilities before dropping it onto the ground a foot from where it had been stationed previous, "Get out, Sans." Feeling secure in the fact that you would be able to make the rest of the journey on your own, you walked towards your bedroom with the full intention of going to sleep. 

Not a moment later, you found yourself supported fully by two strong skeletal arms. Sans had dipped low enough that he could tuck an arm beneath your right leg, careful to avoid the cast on the left. He hefted you up, his other arm supporting your back, and began to walk in the direction of where you had just been heading. You didn't need to look up to see his eyes were full of concern but trained on the floor ahead of you both, not wanting to drop you, but you looked up anyway. 

Taking a deep breath in, you exhaled, "Get out, Sans. It's late, put me down and go home." You wished you had something to clobber him with, you had your fists but that would require energy, something that was absent from your person. "I'm fine. You can go now. Put me down first." 

You noticed a divot in his jaw that hadn't been there before. It was a relatively small hole, and you could see the faded glow of his magic working to heal it, but it was new and it made you wonder what other new things on Sans that there were to discover. 

Sans went through the doorway connecting the hallway and your bedroom, swiftly making his way over to your bed before setting you gingerly on top of the mattress. You stared up at him as his arm slithered out from beneath your back, his movements languid and gentle as he stared down at you. He still hadn't spoken, but his eyes were trained on your face, now. 

Testing the waters, you spoke up, "I'm back with Mettaton." 

"*no you're not." He finally spoke up, refuting your claim without a heartbeat of hesitation. You raised an eyebrow at that and he continued, "*Mettaton would have it plastered all over the news if you were. and i doubt i would have been able to come anywhere near you." 

You shrugged, moving so that you were resting with your elbows planted in the mattress to help you sit up slightly. "He's probably on his way here now. I wanted it to be kept on the down low, and so it is." He began to speak again and you interjected, "How'd you figure out where I'm staying anyway?" You decided not to address the elephant in the room, but you would be getting to that. 

"*Undyne." Sans paused for a moment, not taking his eyes off of your face though he clearly wanted to. "*nice haircut, by the way." You shrugged again but didn't answer. "*so, uh, what happened to your leg?" 

This time you did answer, and you answered harshly, forcing Sans to fully acknowledge your anger, "Why, are you concerned? It's been broken for a little while, pretty much shattered my femur, annihilated my fibula, completely smashed my kneecap in, but I didn't hear you asking about it when it happened. I didn't see you when it happened." You were overplaying your injury, you had only broken your femur and fibula and it wasn't the irreparable damage you had just made it out to be, "I haven't seen or heard from you in months." 

Sans had winced when you mentioned your femur, had cringed when you spoke about your fibula, and looked on the verge of enveloping you into his arms when you mentioned your kneecap, but when you finished speaking he looked sick. Just as you hadn't, Sans didn't waste time beating around the bush. "*i know. i'm sorry. i couldn't contact anyone for a little while, not even Paps, and then i tried to text you and it said that the number was disconnected. i thought you had blocked me so i didn't ask anyone for your number." You reflected on the fact that you might have gotten your new phone around the time he was able to text again. "*what happened?" 

You plopped down on your bed, not having enough energy to hold yourself up for much longer. "Where'd you go?" 

"*anywhere. everywhere. please, what happened?" He was towering over you now, his hands raised and fingers twitching as though he was contemplating whether or not to grab you and shake you or to hold you close. 

You ignored him, "Why did you leave?" 

"*Jesus Christ!" He leaned forward, hands curling over your sides before he lifted himself onto your bed. "*work, okay? what happened?" He looked distraught and overwhelmed with worry, and you almost felt bad for him. 

But he looked exactly how you did when you spent hours trying to reach him, hours trying to convince yourself that he was okay and that nothing was going on. "Why didn't you ask Papyrus what was going on? Why didn't you answer me when I tried to call through Papyrus?" 

His brows were furrowing and he looked positively miserable. His voice took on a cutting edge, one that displayed how displeased he was with you avoiding his questions and that also showed off just how worried he was. "*I didn't want to hear that you were mad at me again, okay? What happened?" He sounded serious, but you weren't finished. 

It was cruel, and his reasons were probably fair if he wasn't so emotionally charged and could relay them with ease and explanation, but you continued anyway. "Did you have fun?" 

Sans snaked his arms beneath you, lifting you up and against him as he dragged you to a sitting position. "*No. Fuck, *****, please!" 

You decided to be fair, "I didn't hurt myself as bad as I said I did," Sans let out a whoosh of relief, "I just broke my femur and fibula." All relief seemed to dissolve within him and he clutched you tighter, phalanges tangling in your shirt as if he was trying to restrain himself from doing something stupid. "I got hit by a car." 

He took a sharp intake of breath, "*What?" 

You dropped your head so that it rested against his shoulder, it took a lot of energy to be angry and you were tired. You were still mad, but you could show it physically later, when you weren't so exhausted. "I got hit by a car. Some little kid was about to get run over and, well, I'm not just going to stand by and watch," You opened your mouth to say more when Sans pulled away from you, but only for a moment.

He returned to you to close the distance further, a hand disentangling from your shirt and lifting your chin to give him access to your lips, which he crushed his teeth again. He murmured against your rigid lips, "*Holy. Fuck." Sans pulled away again, stopping to nuzzle his face against your neck before going back for another kiss. He succeeded in pressing another one to your lips, and then another, and another before you broke from your shocked stupor. 

You leaned away from him, your hands coming up to spread your palms against his chest. "Sans, stop." 

"*Fuck. Fuck. Are you okay? Is the kid? Are you?" His voice still held a serious lilt to it, but had lost the edge. He leaned into your touch, obviously trying to go in for another kiss. 

You found yourself overwhelmed with emotion, and not all of them were positive. You narrowed your eyes at your former best friend, your voice coming out in a low growl that stopped the barrage of questions falling from his teeth and halted his trying to get closer to you, "I'm fine. So get out." 

Sans stared hard at you as though he was seeing you for the first time. You met his stare.

"You don't just get to disappear for seven months, fuck, seven months Sans, and then come in and kiss me. It doesn't work like that, Sans," You refrained from calling him anything profane, "We can talk in the morning, okay? I'm tired as all hell, my fucking leg hurts like a bitch, and right now, I'm not up to dealing with you." 

Your resolve steeled with every second that passed, and as if he saw this, Sans crawled off of you and off of your bed. "*i'll see you in the morning?" 

You wanted to tell him that he wouldn't, rage still boiling inside of you even though you were too tired to physically show it, but nodded. You gave him your new phone number, which he plugged into his phone almost dutifully, and sent him off. 

You closed your eyes when you heard the front door lock and relaxed when you heard it shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry for the sudden absence, I've just been so busy! I've been bogged down by more homework than I can handle, I've had so many exams to study for, I have had a sudden increase in my practice schedule, and to top it all off, I got a job! I'm almost never home anymore, and if I am, I'm doing homework or catching up on some much needed sleep. I hope this chapter was good, and I can't wait to hear from you all soon! 
> 
> My job is taking up the least amount of time, but I expect that to change mid-April. My last competition for the season is April 9th, and the next season starts mid-August so I'll probably be seeing a bump in hours soon. Still, in a little over a month I'll be able to write a bit more again! Thank you all for your support! <3 <3 <3 Don't worry about me, I am doing fine!


	65. Now

Your hand hovered over the doorknob attached to the barrier separating you from moving on. The acrid and stingy taste of too much crushed peppermint flooded your senses, but you didn't ponder as to why you had shoved the hard candies into your mouth only to smash them between your teeth seconds later. You didn't care about that. The smell was almost as overwhelming as the taste, but the sensations grounded you. The sensations helped you. 

You stared hard at the door in front of you, unmoving. You could practically hear the dust settle around your apartment living room as the time stretched on into ages and eons, you could almost hear the generations of bugs and vermin search through your makeshift home as you stood like a statue for the rest of your days. It filled you with a sense of urgency that you weren't keen on acting upon. 

Your teeth had stopped grinding the once-solid candies but a thick, almost impermeable minty sludge still sloshed in your mouth. Your jaws felt glued shut, as if the sugary paste was sealing your mouth shut. 

With a heavy sigh, you dropped your hand over the knob, pressing your warm and somewhat wet flesh against the cool surface. The air, which had previously seemed to still, became static with impalpable things. You could feel your anxiety press against you like gravity, you could feel the crushing weight of your own self doubt and criticisms, you could feel every negative thing. Most of all, you could feel the thick sludge pass down your throat as you finally swallowed. 

You leaned heavily on your right crutch and threw the door open. One careful hobble in front of the other, and you were well on your way to moving away from the thoughts that had plagued you for months. 

When you shut the door behind you, you didn't look back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, it's been a LONG time! Almost two months!
> 
> Sorry guys, I've really lost the inspiration for..Pretty much everything! Some little updates: 
> 
> -I broke my ankle March 22nd, and then competed with said broken ankle April 9th (Talk about irony, I made the Reader break his leg, and then soon after..). I did stellar in the competition, placing first for females as well as first for the mixed competition, but I'm sure you can imagine, the cost was..Well, I can't walk that well. But I'll get there! 
> 
> -I have an AP Test May 1st, and have been cramming like crazy! 
> 
> -I got extremely bad sunburn. The doc said he was concerned, but I denied to be tested for skin cancer. As far as I know, I am A-Okay! 
> 
> -I GOT A JOB! My schedule is hectic as crazy already, but I got my first job! Today, actually! 
> 
> I'll end it there, no need to go into my life story. Those are just some things that have been preventing me from writing. 
> 
> I hope to not only find the time to write, but to also find the inspiration. If you're still here, thanks for sticking with me! <3 <3 <3!!!
> 
> (Also, for all of the comments I haven't replied to yet-I am so sorry! I haven't been able to find the inspiration to respond to those either, but I promise I will some day!)


	66. Then

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two years and four months after the breakup

Your eyes cracked open with a slow reluctance, a tired gaze sliding over elegantly designed ceiling tiles. Your tongue languidly moved over your lightly chapped lips and you turned on to your side, readying yourself to make the journey downstairs to grab a glass of water. Your hand pressed and sank into the mattress as you pushed yourself into a sitting position, body curling and convulsing with short winces as your sunburned skin protested the movement. 

You could still feel the thick grains of sand impossibly embedded between strands of hair. The smell of seawater still permeated your skin despite having scrubbed it away several hours ago, and after a deep exhale, a brilliant smile graced your lips. One more lick over the slightly jagged flesh and you found that you could still taste faint tangs of the salty water. You moved your legs over the mattress, your feet dangling above the floor. With a casual glance over your shoulder, you saw Mettaton's figure still sleeping where it had been earlier. 

Pushing yourself away and on to a standing position, you reached your arms above your head and stretched. An unstoppable whine peeped from your throat and your body cracked as your muscles stretched and released tension. You slid your tongue over your chapped lips again and strode over to the door. If you looked back over your shoulder, you would have seen the watchful beam of Mettaton's gleaming eyes. You didn't turn your head. 

You made your way down the hallway, down the stairs, and through the house. You roved your eyes over happy memories forever encased in the countless photographs that littered every hallway, on every wall. You caught brilliant smiles and felt the infectious laughter penetrate your very soul just by looking at pictures that froze time around times surrounded by laughter. You giggled to yourself and stretched out your arm, fingertips gliding against the occasional vacant section of plaster and raising to lightly brush against metallic photograph frames. 

After a few minutes of wandering long hallways, you finally made it to the kitchen. You trudged over to the cupboard and rummaged around for a few moments before finding a glass large enough to quench the insufferable thirst that had begun to dry your throat. Not thinking to turn around and face the doorway you had just come through, you stepped over to the sink and filled the glass with enough water that liquid began to spill over the rim. 

Bringing the glass to your lips, you began to gulp down as much as you could. It hurt at first, but after a while the cool liquid began to soothe your aching throat. You drained the glass and filled it once more, thinking to yourself about how a water jug might be more appropriate. You downed that glass too, with much more ease than the last, and filled it twice more before being satisfied. That entire time, you didn't face the doorway you had come through. 

Suddenly feeling an uncomfortable settling in your stomach, you turned around to lean against the counter. Setting the glass aside, you glanced up at the doorway that connected the kitchen and the hallway that you had wandered in from. You had looked up too late, completely missing the robotic figure that had stood there not five seconds prior. If you squinted, you might have convinced yourself that you could see a faint pink glow, but if you squinted, you might have shut your eyes completely. 

Yawning, you ignored the feeling of being watched in favor of focusing on the gurgling in your stomach. Your lips were still chapped and your throat still slightly tight and needy but you also needed to pee. Choosing the latter need over the former, which you had previously thought had been satisfied, you waddled over to the doorway you had been staring at earlier. Fingers roaming over the doorway which held a metal door that could crush you easily if released from its constraints in the wall, you yawned again. 

Looking to your left, to your right, and then to your left again as if watching for traffic on a busy street, you began to walk towards the nearest bathroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dang-dang-diggity dang-a-dang
> 
> The folks are gone, it's time for Hamilton 8)


	67. Now

You stared down at the yellow teacup that seemed misplaced atop the platinum dipped tabletop. It's slightly chipped and ragged rim made it even less fitting when compared to the empty charcoal and chic mug sitting directly across from it. 

You took your gaze away from your untouched teacup, plainly ignoring the undoubtedly cold chamomile resting inside of those childish yellow walls. With a sheepish grin, you met the metallic eyes of the monster sitting across from you. Just like your teacup, you were awfully unfitting when compared to him. You felt even less significant when his voice rose to challenge the silence that had reigned just seconds prior. "How are you, darling?" 

Tired. Pained. A terrible mix of awkward masculinity and gangly limbs that were losing muscle mass. You forced an awkward smile, lifting your leg for comedic effect as you whispered hoarsely, "I've been doing fine, and what about you, Mettaton?" 

You berated your lack of volume inwardly, lowering your broken leg back onto the floor. If Mettaton sensed your distress, he didn't mention it. "I've been doing marvelous, but I must admit, I've been a little down." He paused and you didn't say anything. "But marvelous nonetheless." 

You nodded and dropped your gaze back down on to that misplaced teacup. You took a hand from your lap and ran warm fingertips against the handle, the sudden action making the cold liquid slosh around in the cup. You didn't pick it up, you wouldn't even if you were thirsty. It felt oddly painful and inappropriate to place your lips on something that belonged to Mettaton. 

Silence began to ease over you both, but Mettaton didn't seem inclined to let it last. "Why did you come here, *****?" 

"I came here to apologize." 

Mettaton opened his mouth, you could see it in your peripherals, but you still didn't look away from that stupid yellow teacup. "Apologize?" 

"Sorry." You sought out your reflection, wishing it would bounce off the liquid so that you would have something to focus on, _someone_ to focus on. The cold tea only mirrored the ceiling above you. 

You breathed in a disgustingly long breath, one that made your chest ache and made the throbbing in your leg seem a little less important. You tore your gaze from that dumb teacup and lifted your face until you could force yourself to stare into Mettaton's eyes. Your mouth opened but no sound came out. You wished some sound would come out. "What are you apologizing for?" 

You dropped the hand that had been tracing lines into the teacup back into your lap with a frown. What were you apologizing for? There were so many things you felt the need to apologize for, how could you just say one? Finally, your voice echoed in the room. "Everything." Mettaton asked you to explain. "Fuck-..I should have..Fuck." Was all you could come up with.

Mettaton was patient, however, although only when it came to you. 

You allowed an awkward smile and began to speak again. "I feel guilty for just leaving you. I left you to your thoughts, I didn't even try to talk to you. I did the same thing that I did to Sans, but to you." Mettaton flinched at Sans' names but nodded his head, inquiring you to continue. "You gave me so many happy memories, and yeah, you were fuckin' stupid with how you planned out some awesome revenge, but..Fuck. You know?" 

Mettaton, your former lover, your forever love, nodded. You'd become numb to him and all memories of him, but now with him sitting across from you, emotions came flooding back and you wished you could go back to that cold numbness. You didn't want to get back together with him, but, fuck..It hurt. It hurt so fucking bad. You fought for every breath, your throat choking up. 

"I'm sorry." 

You wanted to bury your head into your arms and sob. You wanted to shave that stupid fucking poof off your damn head, you wanted to knock off that pretty boy physique you had adopted, and most of all, you wanted to breath that stupid fucking teacup and smash it into pieces. You eyes lost focus as dampness rimmed your eyelids when you felt cool metallic fingertips brush over your heated cheeks and a robotic voice broke through the irritating silence, "I'm sorry, too, *****."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been thinking about writing another story  
> but like  
> I'm pretty sure the Undertale fandom is dead lmao
> 
> Also **SPOILER**  
> You are not getting back w Mettaton .o. this chapter is not alluding to that possibility bc it's not a possibility


	68. Now

When you finally hobbled away from Mettaton's house, your previous home, with the help of Undyne, you found that there were tears in your eyes. You thought that maybe, when you abandoned Mettaton in a park near Undyne's seven months ago, you would be done with the hunk of metal forever. He had demonized you, made you out to be someone, something, you weren't. Back then, you never imagined that Sans would just up and _leave_ you. 

You never imagined that you would meet with Mettaton again, this time in his house, alone. You never imagined that you would walk away from that unexpected meeting, a new friend found in an old enemy. But then again, life was full of strange things. 

As you hobbled alongside Undyne, her car sliding into view, you asked, "Sans is in your car, isn't he?" 

Life is unpredictable and strange, but Sans is not. Well, he is strange, and mostly unpredictable, but you could expect some things. With you treating him the way that you did last night, you could expect that Undyne would not arrive alone. 

Undyne chuckled hoarsely, her boyish scratchy voice booming in the silent night air. You had been talking with Mettaton a long time. "Is he that predictable?" 

You nodded. Yeah, he was. 

You looked down at your leg which was suspended, sitting in a cast. You thought about just ripping it off. Walking at your current state was a foolish wish but you didn't care. You wanted to stop feeling so useless, so dependent. You looked back up at Undyne, her eye trained on the car that sat at the edge of Mettaton's driveway. "In hindsight," Undyne's lips moved, an awful intelligence passing in her tone. "I should have parked closer." 

You watched as Sans slid out of the passenger seat, casually striding over to the two of you. You stared up at his form blankly as he approached, his languid pace slowing even further when he met your gaze. Thinking back on your meeting with Mettaton, you took a deep inhale.

And on that equally deep exhale, you looked up at Sans, a small smile tugging at the edges of your lips. Even though the two of you were a few feet away from one another, his scanning gaze picked up on the small twang of your lips easily. 

Sans picked up the pace, sliding over so that he stood in front of you and Undyne for a heartbeat before moving to your other side and walking alongside the two of you. His arm hesitantly rose and his fingers danced along your shoulder gently in an uneasy apology. 

You could still feel his teeth against your skin. Against your lips. 

You stopped walking to lean away from Undyne, adjusting your crutches accordingly. Leaning into Sans' side, you offered a silent acceptance of his apology, and for the first time in a long time, you said, "I'm hungry." 

Undyne, who had turned her head to stare at you after you had suddenly stopped, burst out into laughter. The tears that had sat in your eyes began to dry as she guffawed, "Finally! Punk, I thought you were gonna just never--!" Her words were drowned out by laughter and huffed gasps. 

You smiled, feeling, rather than seeing, Sans slide down at your side. He was careful to maintain contact with you, knowing that you were using him for stability instead of your crutches. He paused when he had bent down far enough that he could scoop you up, again avoiding your left leg, and waited for you to hand your crutches over to Undyne. You did, with ease, and allowed Sans to pick you up. 

You felt childish, perhaps even a little bit silly, but you hated your crutches so much and your leg was in immense pain anyway. You maneuvered yourself in Sans' grasp so that he could hold both legs, the pressure of keeping it suspended straining your hip painfully, and spoke up again. "Let's go to Grillby's or something. We can pick up Alphys and the gang." 

You felt Sans nuzzle his face into your hair, and without hesitation, you separated your head from his. 

With Undyne watching, you turned your face towards Sans'. His eyes held a somber look to them, his expression hollow and sad at you having moved your head away. You lifted an arm and crooked it around his neck. Your fingers splayed against the back of his skull as you pushed him closer to you, receiving no resistance on his end. Within hesitant heartbeats, your lips were flush against his teeth and your eyes were closing as you turned your head to angle it better. 

You could hear Undyne's whooping, apparently she won a bet against both Alphys and Papyrus, and you could also feel the shaking eyes of someone else. You had a sneaking suspicion that the eyes poised on your person belonged to the one and only Mettaton, but you couldn't be sure. 

When you abandoned Mettaton seven months ago, leaving him to wallow in what you hoped was guilt and sadness, you didn't expect to befriend him again in your lifetime. You also didn't expect to break your leg, kiss Sans, or miss out on any marathons. 

But then again, life was full of strange and unpredictable things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I reread chapters 58-67
> 
> And
> 
> I remember nothing of what I was going to do with this story BUT I got inspired. It's two in the morning, I just started another story, and I have been jamming out to Hamilton for hours. 
> 
> Someone send help :3 
> 
> <3 <3 <3!!!

**Author's Note:**

> I told myself after IWAP that I'd wait a week, at the very least, before writing again.  
> I have no self control.


End file.
